Miaou

i write things sometimes she/her suggestions open (hsr, tokyo revengers, vocaloid, bsd, ace attorney)

[miaountainmama]

pent up

characters: klavier gavin, tashi (me lols)

contains: yume bullshit, NSFW as fuuuuck, established relationship

word count: 3417

a/n: i am writing a full length fic with these bitches but this was to sate my sinful thoughts. also written in march in a day

Tashi is not one to deny lyrical inspiration.

As such, many times when she’s feeling a strong emotion, she brings out the notepad and pen, preferring the messy feel of a physical medium for brainstorming.

This time is no exception.

She sits in the kitchen now with an iced drink by her side, in almost a trance as her pen moves without pause. All you can hear in the room is the frenzied scratching of the pen tip against paper.

She finishes a sentence and considers her work so far, reading over the unfiltered thoughts from the depths of her heart. I want you inside me; fuck me before the eyes of God; mark me with your love; all the lyrics so far were so… vulgar. She could make it pretty later, she supposes, and she puts pen to paper again, reaching for her drink—

“…Quite horny, ja?” she hears behind her, and she jumps, drink almost spilling as she recovers just enough to place it down. Now that she’s not in a trance she doesn’t know how she missed him— she feels his presence behind her, leaning over to speak over her shoulder. Hastily, she flips the notepad over, straightening up in embarrassment and to try and escape the fact that she could smell his cologne from this angle.

“I didn’t know you were there,” she says tightly, and Klavier laughs airily, placing his hands on her hips from behind. Her body tenses.

“I didn’t think you felt this way, meine Liebe,” he responds, resting his head on her shoulder. She grins humorlessly.

“And I think you weren’t supposed to see that,” she says dryly, and Klavier chuckles again, pressing a kiss to the side of her neck.

Tashi swears she feels the blood in her body rushing. She can’t deal with him right now. Not now. Not while she’s in this state.

“If not me, then who, Schatzi?” he teases, and she exhales in genuine annoyance. She needs an outlet, not to be made fun of.

“Look,” she starts, tone irritated at first, then defeated by the end. “It’s just been a while, okay? I just… fell victim to the urges, that’s all. It was the devil, I swear.” It’s silent for a bit as Klavier turns that sentence over in his head, fingers massaging the fat of her hips, which is not only extraordinarily distracting but putting her in an even worse mood.

“Pent up, ja? A shame. If only there was someone around who could help with that,” he murmurs, smooth voice directly in her ear, and she can’t help the way her body shudders. Fuck this guy, she thinks. He knows exactly what to do. How many people has he slept with to master his technique? She doesn’t want to think about it.

“Men only think of one thing,” she deadpans, feeling extraordinarily self-conscious all of a sudden, and it must be showing considering the way Klavier’s eyes soften, the way he presses slow kisses to her neck and shoulder.

“Meine Liebste,” he says, low but earnest, “a beautiful woman that I love dearly is in front of me right now and you expect me to not want to make love to her?” His fingers dip under the hem of Tashi’s shirt-- her brain bluescreens.

A beautiful woman that I love dearly.

“I want to help you, ja?” he says, punctuating his sentence with another soft kiss to her skin. “I can’t just leave you in this state, Schatzi.”

Klavier is wonderfully patient as she turns the idea over in her head, as she wades through the knee-high waves of insecurity in her mind, and he just holds her close and breathes her in as she debates with herself.

“Okay,” she finally gives in. “Just…” she starts, but she doesn’t know how to articulate her thoughts. Of course she wants to fuck him. Of course she’s thought about it-- they have been dating for a while, and he was built like sex walking-- but her previous experiences of sex have been lackluster and a lot of work for her. She was tired of being taken from with not much in return, and part of her was afraid Klavier would be the same way. Some people found being used hot-- not her. Not when she cared about him this much.

“I’ll be gentle, ja? Tonight is all about you,” he promises, and that seals the deal for her. She’s hesitant, a little timid as she allows him to lead her to her room, and she sits on her bed nervously as he shuts the door and flips on the low lamp by her bedside. It casts the room in a warm, mellow light, the tenderness of the atmosphere matched by Klavier’s hands as he steps forward and lightly nudges Tashi’s legs apart so he can stand between them. Finally in the position he wants, he bends down to fix her with a soft kiss, running his hands up under the hem of her oversized shirt to trace along her waist. It makes her muscles tense-- not exactly the reaction he wants, and he hums against her lips.

“So tense, Schatzi. We’re going to have to loosen you up,” he murmurs, and part of her is scared to know what that means; but she trusts him, trusts him as he undresses her, lifting her shirt and pressing kisses to whatever skin he can reach. He tosses the fabric aside onto her desk chair before he moves lower, kneeling to kiss her sternum, then her stomach-- his hands find the outline of her shorts, and her legs twitch slightly closed around his head. Klavier looks up at her, resting his head against her thigh, ever patient, and she takes a breath and lets them relax again. Only then does he reach for the waistband, taking everything off at once.

Tashi’s face burns as she’s exposed to him, looking away and covering her mouth with the back of her hand. This hand is gently pulled away-- Klavier stands and takes her hands in his, placing them on his body.

“You can touch too, ja?” he says, spurring her on, and his smile widens as Tashi hesitantly obliges, dipping her fingers under his shirt to trace along his abdomen with light, timid pressure. “Take what you need from me, meine Liebe,” he purrs, brushing her bangs from her eyes, watching the way her cheeks darken even further as he speaks. She runs her hands up further now as he leans into her touch, feeling the well-maintained muscle flex beneath her fingers. She reaches further-- the shirt stops her, a little too tight to allow her hands to comfortably fit underneath, and she stops, trailing her hands back down. Klavier’s chest rumbles with amusement at her bashfulness.

“Don’t let this get in your way,” he says, leaning back and making a show of taking his shirt off-- it joins Tashi’s clothes on the desk chair and reveals a pretty lean and toned body. Of course someone like him who puts such emphasis on looking good would make sure he was sculpted like fine art. He stretches his arms above his head, all feigned casualness when Tashi knows all he wants to do is show off his muscles.

Somehow, this little ploy for attention is funny to her, and it puts her mind at ease. Okay, she thinks. Maybe this isn’t as serious as I think it is. It emboldens her to pull him closer by the hips, pressing a kiss to the right of his navel. His hands find her hair as she does so-- it’s a wonderful feeling, and she rests her forehead against his abdomen just so she can lean further into his hands. There’s a chuckle from above her, but she doesn’t really care. From where she’s positioned, she can see at eye level just how low waisted the sweatpants of his loungewear are. What a manwhore.

They stay like that for just a bit until Klavier realizes Tashi is way too nervous to make the first move herself-- he can hear it in the rhythm of her breathing. Normally, he would tease-- but he promised that tonight was hers, and he promised to help her release all that built-up tension. He initiates this time, tugging down his waistband and letting out a heavy breath as he finally frees himself from the constraints of his clothing. With them both finally bare, he feels ready to begin, though he can’t help but notice Tashi, who was previously looking up at him, keeps flicking her gaze downward before tearing it back up.

“You can look, Schatzi,” he says in amusement, and she blinks up at him once before she takes the invitation to satisfy her curiosity. He’s probably a little bigger than average, she realizes, or at least bigger than the ones she’s had before, though she’s a lot more focused on something else.

“It’s… tanned,” she remarks, amazed, and she sees Klavier shift in surprise. Not what he was expecting to hear. Still, he takes it in stride.

“I take care of all parts of me, meine Liebe,” he says, amused, watching as she squints, leaning forward to examine.

Tashi reaches out to hold the top half and examine it. Klavier’s hips shoot forward into her hand unbidden.

He quickly grabs onto one of her shoulders to steady himself. “Careful, Schatzi,” he says, voice noticeably tighter, and Tashi freezes in place, blinking at the way she felt him twitch in her grasp. She withdraws her hand, and Klavier resists the urge to chase it. Instead, he finally moves from his standing position and sits beside her, swinging his legs up and maneuvering himself so he’s propped up on the headboard. Tashi looks at him from where he sits, reclined and waiting, and suddenly she’s uncertain again. He wants her to get on top? Is she going to have to do all the work again?

Klavier beckons her closer, patting his thighs. Not really knowing what he wants, she crawls closer and swings a leg over to straddle him, but he shakes his head. He’s speaking in low tones now.

“Other way, meine Liebe,” he murmurs, and Tashi hesitates before crawling around so her back is facing him. Klavier’s hands pull at her thighs until she’s fit snugly against him, and she can feel his hardness pressed into her back from where she’s lying against his abdomen. She’s stiff, muscles rigid, but Klavier slots his head back over her shoulder, kissing the skin beside him.

“Relax, ja? I told you I’d help you,” he says smoothly in her ear, and she swallows but ultimately obliges. She tries her best to relax against him, trying to focus on the warmth of his thighs against hers, and as Klavier’s hands run down her shoulders and down her body, she finds it gets a little easier. She takes a deep breath, exhaling, and just drinks in the sensation of his hands gliding across her body-- one settles on her hip, the other dragging up to run along a nipple. She sighs without meaning to, going a little pliant, and she hears the self-satisfied smile in Klavier’s voice.

“Comfortable?” he asks, and she nods, letting out a little mhm that makes Klavier’s heart pound. God. He was so down bad. Now that she’s suitably pliable, Klavier’s hand moves south, nudging her thighs open, and, dragging his fingers through her slick, taps twice on her clit-- her hips jump a little, but she’s held down by his other hand. Perfectly positioned, he thinks. He starts with a slow circling, allowing her to get used to the feeling, switching to a gentle rubbing motion once she stops twitching.

This is not at all how she expected the night to go, she realizes as a jolt of pleasure courses through her body. Being treated with such kind and soft love for once is almost overwhelming in its own right for her-- a half whine leaves her lips as it surrounds her, and she hears Klavier take a shuddering breath behind her.

“Feels good?” he rasps out, voice suddenly a little hoarse, and she nods, lips parting slightly in an attempt to get more air into her lungs. The breathiness is getting to Klavier’s head, he thinks, and he uses just a bit firmer pressure in the hopes he can hear more. It works as intended.

Tashi is vaguely aware of her pulse starting to quicken, feeling the blood and dopamine rush through her body, and when Klavier kisses her jugular, extending his ring-clad middle finger to dip just barely into her entrance, she feels her whole body shake in anticipation.

“This is okay?” he murmurs, and Tashi gives a breathy affirmative sort of noise.

The genuine moan that she makes when Klavier crooks his finger and pushes in makes him immediately lightheaded.

“Ah, Schatzi,” he groans as he unconsciously ruts once against her back. “Such a sweet sound.” He needs more. He pulls his finger out almost fully before dragging it firmly, slowly back in, thumb finding its way to her clit again on instinct. Her hands, lightly shaking, reach out to ground herself on his arm, and the pressure every time she squeezes from a particularly good thrust sets his veins on fire. This rhythm continues for a while-- then Klavier adds another finger, and her head lolls back, uttering a thoroughly broken noise that has him gripping her hip in a desperate attempt to steady his mind. He feels her squeeze around his fingers as she adjusts-- he wonders what that would feel like around his cock, and his mouth goes dry. At this point, he’s painfully hard, the friction from her squirming against him blurring his thoughts.

Klavier thinks he must have the patience of a saint as he waits for Tashi to finally relax enough for him-- he’s breathing heavily himself just from hearing her, and his voice sounds far away as he asks if she’s ready for him. When she gives him a pathetically whiny yeah, he repositions himself below her, trying his best to pretend like he’s not absolutely shaking with need.

When he finally pushes in, Klavier swears he hears the choirs of angels-- and perhaps he does in the noises of their combined pleasure. He wishes he could see her face right now, almost cursing himself for choosing this position, but he knows it’ll be easiest to please her like this, and he did, after all, say that the night was hers. He goes in an inch, then stops, feeling the way her muscles contract around him-- once they relax a little he goes in another inch, slowly, slowly bottoming out-- Tashi is gripping onto his arm tightly, and he coos praise into her ear as her body shifts to accept him.

“W… wait,” Tashi gasps, as he pulls out to start a rhythm, and he stops immediately, going almost deathly still out of desire to listen to her every command. “I need a second,” she says, and he makes a noise in the affirmative, breathing heavily in her ear as he wills himself to stay motionless. The relief that floods his body when she says he’s good to move is palpable-- he immediately thrusts upwards into her, firm but not rough, and it tears a surprised yelp from Tashi’s throat.

“Sorry, Tashi,” he pants, gripping her hips. “Couldn’t help myself,” he grunts, but she doesn’t complain as he then starts a gentler pace, one that quickly has both of them losing their minds.

Klavier’s voice sounds as beautiful on stage as it does in the bedroom, Tashi has come to find out. Even in ecstasy, his tone is wonderfully smooth, balancing the hoarse grit of deeper moans with softer, more subdued gasps of pleasure. She feels surrounded by him-- draped across his abdomen with his hand on her waist, she feels completely and utterly overwhelmed by him and only him. Despite him setting a deliberate pace, she still feels so taken care of; he presses kisses into her skin with every noise she makes, holds her tighter every time she wails particularly loudly. He seems fixated on making sure she feels as good as possible-- his right hand snakes down to rub at her clit even as he moves within her, and she swears she nearly cums right then and there.

“Feels good?” he pants, and she sobs out a so, so good that makes Klavier’s cock twitch. She makes the most deliciously broken sounds, and it makes him lose control of himself.

Soon enough, her cries get frantic, more desperate, and Klavier knows it’s almost time. He’s determined to not rush things, though, wants her to feel the love and the months of yearning for this in every movement he makes, so he keeps the same pace, makes the same movements.

“I’ve got you, Schatzi,” he murmurs, pulling her close against him, and it takes just a few more thrusts before she’s gone, head snapping back as she cums hard-- it washes over her like a gentle wave before it bubbles up to almost unbearable heights, and she desperately scrabbles at Klavier’s skin to try and ground herself as she cries out, hips jerking and back arching as the feeling shoots through her. Klavier holds her close throughout it all, murmuring gentle encouragement in her ear and holding her body tight so she doesn’t accidentally hurt herself moving about. Her groans are deep, then as the sensation passes and she becomes more sensitive, her noises become more pathetic, more broken, before tapering off into pitiful whimpers. Klavier feels her go boneless in his grip, and he starts to slow-- he doesn’t want to overwhelm her, even though everything in him wants release. He’s surprised when Tashi grabs at his arm, though.

“Keep going,” she says weakly, and Klavier almost completely ceases his movements, only lightly thrusting.

“You’re sure, meine Liebe?” he murmurs, almost a little worried, but she takes a shaky breath and nods against him.

“Can take a little more, I promise,” she says, and he can tell she means it. “Want you to feel good, too,” she says, though she doesn’t voice the more selfish desire in her heart-- she wants to hear him cum, too. Klavier hesitates but obliges her, starting up again and allowing himself to chase his own release. It’s not far away, he realizes as he feels the way her body slides against his. He allows himself to speed up just a little, burying his face in her shoulder and holding her close, focusing on how everything feels so soft, so warm, and soon he’s a lot less controlled and a lot more whiny.

“Schatzi,” he pants, hips jerking up, and she reaches out to smooth a hand along his thigh-- it makes him buck upwards again, letting out some beautiful whine that Tashi wants to keep in her brain for the rest of her life. “Tashi,” he whimpers, and that’s the last thing he says something strikes in his brain and he jerks backwards, pulling her off of him and furiously stroking at himself-- the resulting sound as he cums is divine, a guttural moan that tapers off into a weak almost-sob. She wishes she could see his face-- she imagines his pretty features contorting, his eyebrows furrowing and turning upwards. The image is satisfying enough with the sounds, and when Klavier sags back against the headboard, she finally gets up on shaky knees to lie beside him.

He wraps an arm around her, breathing heavily as the both of them just try to recover from the intense pleasure. Her body feels so heavy, but not in a bad way-- in a satisfied, relaxed kind of way, and Klavier turns to her as his chest heaves.

“Meine Liebste,” he starts, and she looks up from where she rests her head on his shoulder. His eyes are blown out, face misty from exertion, but he looks so, so sated. “Was that… what you needed?”

Tashi hums, nuzzling closer. “Yeah,” she breathes, soft and pliable now, and she knows there’s a lot they need to talk about now, a lot of boundaries to set and things to discuss now that they’ve formally broken the barrier of sex; but for now? She closes her eyes, allowing herself to sink into his skin.

She should write lyrics like that more often.

[miaountainmama]

jacket

characters: ryuguji ken/draken x gn!fembodied!reader

contains: nsfw, minors dni. soft and gentle sex, p in v, he's just whipped man idk what to tell you. not proofread

wc: 5048

a/n: this took two months bro. also the longest one-shot i've ever written

Draken was not known to be, in the words of his peers, “down bad” for anybody.

Draken was not known to be down bad, but here he was, eyes widened, heart pounding, cheeks flushed in the darkness of the warm summer night as he watches you climb onto his bike, hands gliding appreciatively over the smooth leather and chilled steel surfaces. He takes it all in, the glitter in your eyes, the reflection of the warm headlights on your skin, the way your thighs squish against your shorts and the seat of the bike as you familiarize yourself with the absolute behemoth of a vehicle. Your fingers, half covered by the long sleeves of the jacket you were wearing (his jacket. His jacket.), curve around and trace the handlebars, noting the texture of the padding.

“You take such good care of her,” you note appreciatively, and he beats down the words I could take such good care of you. He just smiles lightly instead, lets that pride spark in his chest, approaching with feigned coolness.

“Let me take you home,” he says, a certain reverence to his tone, and your expression lights up at the thought of being able to go on a ride on such a beautiful bike. Still, there’s a little hesitation due to the unfamiliar transportation method as well as a fear that this means the end of the night, an end to seeing him until who knows when.

“Oh, are you sure? I’d love to, I’ve just… never ridden a bike like this before,” you trail off, swinging your legs off and stepping back, suddenly feeling like you should leave a little distance between yourself and his motorcycle in case it felt like you were pressuring him. He shakes his head, taking your place, steadying the bike and preparing it for your weight behind him.

Gods above. He could still feel your body heat on the seat.

He beckons you closer, throwing you a soft look to let you know it’s alright and trying really hard to not think about how the heat from your thighs was technically on his own. You falter, but the look in his eyes steadies you and you shuffle over to take place behind him. Gingerly, you sit behind him, scooting forward just enough that you were barely touching before wrapping your arms around his waist.

Draken feels a little thread of sanity in his brain start to fray.

“You’ll fall like that,” he says, amusement laced in his voice, but he kicks the kickstand up and revs the engine without giving you time to adjust. It sends a shiver of fear down your spine and you squeak, immediately pressing closer despite him going rather slow. He chuckles, enjoying the feel of your arms tightening around him, though he’s kind enough to want to ease your fears. He’d never want you to feel scared around him.

“I’ll go slow. I’d never let you get hurt,” he assures you, and you feel his voice rumble through his body from where you’re clutching on for dear life.

He can feel your chest molded to his back. The thread begins to unravel.

The way to your apartment is practiced, memorized. He needs no directions. He would know his way to you even if he forgot his own name.

Somewhere down the line you loosen up a little, lifting your head and resting the side of your forehead between his shoulderblades so you can see the streetlights pass by, and you realize that this is nothing like being in a car. The wind through your hair, the raw hum of the city around you, it’s like nothing else. Somehow, as you see his blonde hair trailing behind him and indulge in his solid presence, you feel as if you’ve rediscovered the world.

“Draken?” you ask dreamily as he finally pulls into your driveway, slowing gently to a stop and putting a leg down to hold your weight. He looks back at you to respond-- and he has to blink a few times.

Your hair is a little mussed from the ride, but you look as beautiful as ever-- this time, perhaps, beauty of a different kind. You look alive, cheeks darkened by the bite of the wind, eyes alight with a wonder he never feels himself anymore. There’s a softness about you, a satisfaction as you regard him and the night.

You look like you’re in love.

Whether it’s with him or with life, he doesn’t know, but his chest tightens and his tongue turns heavy in his mouth.

“Let’s do this again,” you say, mouth stretching into the most radiant smile, and the fact that it’s directed towards him of all people makes his heart skip a beat.

“As many times as you want,” he finds himself saying a little too quickly, and he can’t help but feel a little self-conscious of how whipped he probably looks right now. You let out a pleased noise at his response, finally allowing yourself to let go and detach yourself from his back and bike now that you know this isn’t the last time. He wavers for a second, unsure whether he should go and honestly a little unwilling to do so, but you regard him with that gentleness and wave him over to your door too, and he finds himself following like a dog.

“Don’t wanna let you go just yet,” you tease, flicking his arm, and it sends a smile to his lips. He lightly taps your temple in return as you search for your keys, ever gentle, ever afraid of his own strength when it comes to you, and you lean slightly into him. Eventually, you find your prize, unlocking the door and waving him in after you. Boots off, you both find your way into your room, Draken taking a seat in your desk chair and spinning around aimlessly a few times. You laugh softly at this, watching him for a moment before figuring you might as well get comfortable.

You’re still wearing his jacket, and while it’s comfortable, and warm, and smells like him, and you would like to wear it forever and ever, you don’t want to take his stuff and impose any more than you already have, so you reluctantly let the fabric fall off your shoulders.

“Don’t.”

The sudden command takes you by surprise, and you freeze in place, the fabric still pooling around you and drowning your hands in its sheer size. Draken is watching you with a strangely sharp gaze that suddenly makes you feel very self-conscious.

“Keep it on,” he finds himself saying without really thinking it through, and at this point, he knows he’s in too deep to really turn back. You blink, before following through with his request, slowly slipping the fabric back up your body. “You…” he tries to explain himself, and suddenly his words are failing him, and his mouth is dry, and he’s looking at your visible collarbones and the way his jacket spans the expanse of your body. “It… suits you.”

You glance down, then back up, then back down and back to his face. “But… it’s yours,” you say halfheartedly, fidgeting with the hem of the sleeves, and his heart lurches as he watches the nervous habit. You will be the death of him.

“Take it. Just… wear it sometimes. When you’re going to see me,” he manages, and he knows he makes no sense, but you seem to catch on anyways. A flush appears on your cheeks, and you examine the way the fabric stretches and molds to your touch.

“So you’re saying what’s yours is also mine?” you tease, looking down at him in your chair with that accursed lilted smile that embeds itself in his brain. His brain goes completely blank.

“Always. It always has been,” he says without hesitation, and his expression is so earnest, so completely dead serious that it blows you away. You almost step back as the realization hits you.

“You… feel the same,” you murmur, and something flashes behind his eyes. His spine straightens, and he leans forward. In the dim low lighting of the room, the air-conditioner hums and fills the empty spaces between your words.

“The same?” he says, a little hint of a whisper in his voice, but he sees it in your eyes, sees the truth there, and it completely disarms him. He stands slowly, and you go from looking down at him to looking up, as large as he is.

You stare at each other from across the room.

There’s a buzz in the air, electric.

You stand in front of him.

He looks down at you, arm twitching forward, a subconscious effort to reach out to you. You raise your own, fingertips lightly running along his jaw-- he shudders, and you fully hold his face now. His gaze is stormy as he never breaks eye contact once, lightly grasping your wrist so he can press his lips to your palm. He’s warm, overwhelmingly so, as your other hand makes it to his collar, and then you’re grabbing his shirt and tugging him down ever so softly, just enough to signal that you want him to bend down. He does so, and at the same time you tilt your head up, and then--

Your lips meet, soft and sweet.

There’s longing in this kiss, there’s the desperation and the yearning and the despair of every goodbye you’ve ever had without telling each other you I love you. It’s unhurried but there’s a burning undercurrent, a desire to make up for lost time, and as your eyes drop half-lidded you feel him shuffle you over to your bed by your waist. He sits first, never once breaking contact and pulling you down to straddle him. You do so, though you’re slow, very gradually shifting your weight onto him as if you aren’t quite sure what to do with yourself. He lets you take your time, always gentle as he guides you closer until your chests are flush and hips snug against each other, and there’s a heat on your cheeks that won’t go away.

It’s different with Draken, you think. There’s no expectations, there’s no ulterior motives, and you find yourself melting into him without much resistance, becoming soft and pliant in his hold. Your arms go to wrap around his neck as you play with his braid, and as your fingers lightly tug, not on purpose, he lets out a huff of… something, a deep, heavy noise, and your eyes shoot open, body immediately freezing. Draken, feeling you tense up, also stops, pulling away just enough to be able to look at you properly. He’s breathing heavy and slow, as are you, and he searches your face to see what’s wrong. You’re looking shy, but he doesn’t get it, not at first, not until you lean back slightly and he feels the pressure between his legs, feels the slight friction as your thighs graze against him.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, heart dropping, taking your chin between his fingers and tilting your head back towards him-- you find it hard to look in his eyes. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” The last thing he wants to do is scare you away. He’s waited too damn long for this, but he can wait as long as it takes, as long as you need. You worry your bottom lip slightly in between your teeth.

“It’s not that I don’t want to, I just…” you shrink in on yourself at this point, not out of shame but just pure bashfulness. “I haven’t… ever done anything. With anyone. Like, nothing past a kiss. At all,” you admit, and he hums. As beautiful as you are, he’s a little surprised, but there’s something in him that flutters at the thought that you didn’t say no despite your obvious apprehensiveness.

“Do you want to?” he speaks lowly in your ear, stroking your hair with one hand and holding you steady by your waist with the other. He lets you take your time as you falter, taking the opportunity to press soft kisses to the column of your neck, and you can’t deny the heat it sends through your body. Your whole life, you’ve always found it hard to admit that you want things, that you desire things. You were never important enough to yourself, never the first priority. Now, Draken asks you freely, offers freely, and you don’t want to disappoint him-- but more importantly, you don’t want to disappoint yourself.

“Yeah,” you finally admit, breathy already. “I do.”

He regards you with a soft smile, the weight of him being your first settling into his bones. The weight of your trust in him. “I do too,” he murmurs against your skin, breath sending the little baby hairs to stand on end. “I’ll make it good for you, I promise. I’ll be gentle.”

He rolls his hips then, a slight movement, but it makes you gasp, feeling him grind against your core-- it’s entirely alien to have another party associated with your pleasure, but it’s not entirely unwelcome. Carefully, he takes both hands and moves your hips against his too, and you let out an a-ah- of embarrassment that sends all his blood rushing south. You try your best to not resist it, letting him move you how he pleases, though he does chuckle and press a kiss by your ear.

“You gotta help me set the pace, pretty. I need to know what you like, what makes you feel good,” he says, and, though it sets every one of your nerves aflame, you timidly begin to move yourself as well, angling your hips just right to have the bulk of the pressure against your clit. It makes your breath hitch, and he coos a soft very good into your ear, the deep rumble of it making you all the more hot. It’s a different feeling, but it’s addicting, and you find time slipping by as you fall into a rhythm, clinging to each other in the warm summer night. His hands find his way under his jacket you still wear, under your shirt, slipping up your sides and tracing little swirls into the skin, and it makes your next inhale shudder, your next exhale carrying just the slightest ghost of a whimper. You feel him buck against you at that, just the slightest bit, which makes you make a noise again-- the start of a cycle of bliss.

His lips find the column of your neck again, a fuzzy feeling going through your whole body at the contact, and you let out a breathy whine, clinging to him just a little tighter and chasing that friction just a little harder. It’s hard to get enough through the fabric of your shorts, and it’s starting to frustrate you a little bit— your brows knit, your next huff of air escaping more out of impatience than pleasure, and you can feel Draken chuckle into your skin. His fingers slip from your hips to the button of your shorts, unfastening them.

Draken has always been a big guy, but it startles you just how easily he scoops you up with one arm, lifting you from his hips like you weigh nothing so he can slide the fabric down. You squeak out of surprise, but angle yourself to the side to allow your shorts to fully slide off your body. It leaves you in just your underwear, which would make you self-conscious if it wasn’t for the fact that Draken is already on you again, slotting you close to him again and gently lying you down on your soft covers.

It’s altogether too fast and not fast enough, this whole experience, as he grabs some pillows and fixes them below your head. You look up at him lovingly as he does this, ever so willing to take care of you, ever so willing to postpone his own pleasure for your comfort. It stops him in his tracks, your hazy expression, a little blissed out already with darkened cheeks and nothing but love in your heart, and you swear you see his own face turn rosy as he leans down to kiss you, softly again this time.

“I know you want me already, beautiful, but I’ve gotta prep you first,” he murmurs against your lips, and you make a disgruntled noise but nod your head. You feel him smile, kissing your jaw before adjusting himself to prop up on one arm. His other hand travels, trailing down your body, starting at your collarbone and ghosting over a nipple before going further and further until it dips below the elastic of your underwear. You jerk as you feel him touch you there for the first time, just barely gathering slick on his pointer finger, and you hear him groan out a low sort of noise as he feels how excited you are for him. For him.

It gives him a sort of sick satisfaction, being your first, knowing that no matter what, you’ll always remember him— and that satisfaction, that determination to have it be as wonderfully memorable as possible drives him as he moves his index finger to circle your core. He’s gentle, as he promised to be, though he has to fight for his self control as you let out a genuine moan, one that has him burying his face in your neck to try and keep himself in check. One of your hands finds his hair, the other sinking into the sheets, and with every buck of your hips as you experience this new foreign pleasure you mindlessly tug at his hair that is now falling from his signature braid. 

With every tug you feel his breathing deepen against your neck, his lips brushing against your skin, and it makes you whine, holding him closer, wanting him to know that you want him. 

And God, does Draken want you too.

You feel it in the way he slips a finger in, slow, testing the waters, and in the way his breathing stutters as there’s little resistance. You feel it in the way he sighs as you keen, every sound dripping with love and lust, your hips chasing his finger until he adds a second. At this you let out a guttural noise, one from far beneath your chest, and it gives Draken pause.

“You alright?” he breathes, stilling his hands, and you give a noncommittal hum of assurance, a little too blissed out to use words. You rock your hips to show you want it, chasing the friction, and he kisses the junction between your neck and shoulder as he begins to move his thumb and thrust his fingers again, crooking them just right so that you feel yourself already starting to wind up.

“Fuck,” you curse, though it sounds more pathetic than anything. “Draken,” you whimper, and it sends his heart spiraling into orbit. His name on your tongue, coated in honey thick pleasure… He props himself back up, his blood running a little hotter. “Fuck, I’m gonna-“ you start, and your eyes fly open as you suddenly feel… nothing.

“Draken,” you whine, panting as you tilt your head up to look at him. He’s pulled his fingers from your heat, lightly scissoring them and watching in almost wonder as he sees how much you’ve soaked his fingers. He looks down at you then, apologies in his eyes.

“We don’t know your limits yet, pretty. I’d rather you get to have me now than be too tired later,” he says, wiping his hand off on a blanket next to him that you’re definitely going to have to wash later. His reasoning makes sense, but you utter some disgruntled grumble just to be a brat that has his lips quirking up. He makes light work of his pants before slipping your completely soaked underwear from your thighs as well. The shy part of you wants to look away as he does so, but the other side of you is curious about him— you raise your head and flick your eyes down and—

“What the fuck,” you gawk, and Draken stops from where he was slotting himself between your legs. 

“What?” he says, almost defensive in the way he looks at you. You let your head drop back to the pillow, covering your face with your hands.

“That is not gonna fit,” you say disbelievingly, but Draken, now realizing the reason behind your sudden incredulity, seems unbothered.

“It will,” he says reassuringly. “I’ll go slow. Just relax, pretty.” You lift a hand from your face just so you can side-eye him, but seeing how completely serious he is has you wanting to put your trust in him. You sigh and hook a leg around him, acquiescing, and he smiles at you. When he asks if you’re ready and aligns himself, you, despite the slight fear, tell him that you do, in fact, want it.

When he pushes in, ever so slowly, every so gently, you feel your world change.

Part of it feels like too much, feels like you’re going to explode, but Draken stops often and checks in with you, and, when you relax like he said, it goes smoother and feels a little better. He rubs your clit with his thumb all the while, soothing you through heavy breaths, and something about something happening both inside and outside feels good. Your back arches, and as you curve towards him, he curves towards you so he can press his chest to yours. 

Close to you. That’s all he ever wants to be.

The first thrust has you gasping, and, when he confirms you’re alright and starts a slow rhythm, all rational thought leaves you. The slow in-and-out movement mixed with the gentle rubbing of his thumb has you whimpering already, everything unfamiliar but entirely welcome. Something about the pleasure being uncontrolled, orchestrated by another, makes everything feel better, and you sigh out his name in the dim lamplight. He answers with a kiss against your collarbone and a dull groan against your flushed skin that sends a rush through your body.

He allows you to move as you will as you attempt to find what feels good for you, though he does gently push your torso back when you arch too much.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” he murmurs, laying himself lightly on top of you and using his sheer size to pin you down and keep your body in a safe position. No matter how your body strains against his, you can’t move him— you’re forced to listen to him, though you’re sure he’s right; he always is.

The heat is altogether too much, and you feel sweat start to bead between your breasts as Draken moves, your own whines and his low groans getting to your head. Now that you’re used to him inside you, that winding tension from when he was prepping you begins to return, and you feel yourself clench around him in weak spasms, your own body chasing that high. He moans then, low and throaty as you tighten, a sound that goes directly to your brain. He applies just a little more pressure to your clit that has you instantly clutching at his shoulders, your mouth dry and legs slightly shaking.

You whimper out a broken sort of sound, and Draken breathes it in. He wants it all. He wants more, wants to hear what you sound like when you finally snap. He’s heard it in his dreams, imagined it when the night is late and he feels the emptiness in his bed beside him, but nothing compares to the real thing. You sound sweeter than he thought possible, surrounding him, the softness of you drawing him down further into you. Your moans are becoming more frequent now, hitting a more desperate tune, and when your cries turn into practical sobs of his name he makes it his sole mission to have you cum on his cock as many times as he could possibly make you. The slick slide of him inside you, the gentle wet sounds, the heat of your skin and the knit of your eyebrows and the way your lashes flutter— he drives deeper, still gentle but deeper, and you feel yourself fall apart.

Your back arches, vision going white as all you can feel is pleasure. You feel like Draken is everywhere— inside you, molded against you, his lips cooing reassurance in your ear, his skin against yours. Still, you pull him even closer, your fingers grabbing onto his shoulders and back and scrambling for purchase as waves of feeling crash over you and stay. That’s what gets you— the pleasure keeps going as Draken fucks you gently through your high, and he drinks in every sound, every moan, drinks in the way your desperate wails and broken noises turn to whimpers as the high subsides and it becomes too much. So much blood has rushed south for him he feels he might explode, yet he stops, leaning back and rubbing his hands along the expanse of your hips to ground you.

“You okay, pretty?” he murmurs, trying to ignore the way his body screams at him to keep going, to drive you into the mattress and fold you beneath him. It’s almost dizzying how desperate he is to continue, but he’s always had good self control and it’s your first time— he puts you first, always. You nod shakily, panting, slowly righting your posture from the way you bowed from pleasure. 

“You haven’t finished yet,” you register dimly, reaching with a trembling hand out for him— it makes you feel guilty, like you take and never give. He looks at you tenderly, though, pressing his lips to your hand before lacing his fingers through yours. 

“Can you take it if I keep going?” Draken asks, and you think about it, think about how hard and heavy he still is within you, and you wiggle your hips to test the waters. A flash of bliss washes over his face for just a moment, his teeth gritting, and it gives you all the answer you need.

“I can take it,” you say, eager to see him fall apart as well. “I wanna make you feel good too.” Despite himself, relief washes over his face, and he holds you steady by the hips this time as he moves, just a single slow thrust to see if you’re lying to him. It makes you suck in a stuttered breath, but it’s not uncomfortable— satisfied, he begins to set a rhythm again.

Now that you’ve already reached your peak, Draken allows himself to let go and really indulge in your body. You feel divine as he makes long, deep strokes, your softness heavenly against how hard he is. He feels every inch of you as he drags against you, breath steamy from the heat between you two, and his head dips back as he groans unabashedly. It makes your pleasure increase too, hearing him, and what was previously on the border of too much soon becomes not enough. You arch just a little more, wanting to feel him deeper, and it doesn’t take long for him to feel a tension winding within him, his hips snapping a little more sloppily, a little more desperately.

“Where do you want me?” he gasps as he buries himself inside you as far as he can go, and you blink through the pleasured haze. You didn’t even think about that, but of course Draken of all people would be prepared.

“Inside,” you breathe, and he looks at you warily despite his gritted teeth. “I’m on the pill, I swear,” you say, and that’s all it takes for his eyes to droop and for him to pull you by the hips even closer. He seems to be in a trance now, eyes unfocused as that pressure builds within him, large hands gripping you and practically pulling you up and down his cock. You moan his name then, the feeling of being manhandled more enjoyable than you expected, and the sound is what finally sets Draken off.

He groans and sinks as far into you as he can as he cums, the sudden warmth entirely foreign to you as you feel it well inside you. Above you, Draken is nearly shaking, letting out subdued groans and gasps as he empties himself, cheeks painted red and expression completely blissed out. You wish you could take a picture as you watch him taken by the euphoria of it all, and part of you cheers as you realize you might get the chance to in the future. He nearly collapses on top of you then, still inside you, bracing himself on either side of you and resting his forehead in the crook of your neck. You feel the same way, weak and shaky, but in a pleasant way. Your limbs feel jellylike as you run your hand through his hair, which has now become mostly unbraided from your messing with it. He gives himself a few minutes to recover, at least until his breath stops heaving.

“You alright?” he asks again, ever the gentleman, and you smile at him tiredly from underneath him.

“Better than alright,” you assure him, feeling the afterglow set in. You just had sex with the man you’ve been pining after for forever— and he feels the same way you do. “I should have told you earlier. I can’t believe I’ve been going without this.”

You feel him smile into your neck. “Yeah. Same here,” he says, and he nuzzles just a little nearer to you. He still hasn’t pulled out, but part of you doesn’t want him to as you lie together, sharing each other’s heat as the crickets chirp outside. Both of your bodies are so hot you can feel him through the heat of his jacket that you still wear— the jacket that started everything.

You bask in the softness of it all— his skin, his jacket, the silk of your sheets— and decide you’re never going to give this jacket back to him at all.

[miaountainmama]

watchdog

characters: inui seishu/inupi x tr!tashi

contains: yume shit. sfw. endless pining from tashi’s side. it’s 2 am and i can’t sleep. not proofread.

wc: 1143

a/n: i like making selfship content too bc i can have established lore

Tashi is, at the big age of eighteen, afraid of the dark.

There’s something about it that feels like cold hands, like a shiver up the spine when something isn’t quite right. She’s afraid, not of monsters, but of what the darkness usually entails.

Sleep. Lack of sleep. And lying awake alone for hours.

She misses him.

Inui Seishu was never Tashi’s to begin with. She knows this, and she’s respected the unspoken rule, never getting as close as she wants, never letting any withheld please love me spill from her lips. Still, the weight of years makes her chest ache, makes her bones feel heavy and her body run colder. Perhaps he’s noticed it, she thinks sometimes as the dark circles under her eyes grow more prominent. Perhaps he’s noticed the way she’s fading, speaking only when spoken to and only when the thoughts suddenly become too unbearable.

Tashi knows she is loved. She is loved, but not in the way that satisfies her. He is everything to her. She is in his background. He visits her life out of necessity, or a whim. She thinks about him every day.

It eats away at her as she lies there in the dark, an uncomfortable feeling twisting in her gut as the silence rings louder than any siren, twisting in her ears until it pulses in her brain, and she wishes something would cut that wretched buzzing out of her head.

There’s a knock at the door.

Tashi starts, anxiety intensifying, her irrational fears suddenly turning real rational, real quick. The dark becomes a monster of a different kind.

She waits a few minutes. Anyone knocking this late is none of her business. She knows better than to let unknown visitors know of her presence.

There’s another knock at the door. It’s still soft, but firmer.

She fights every instinct and gets out of bed.

The peephole has never seemed like more of an unfriendly void than now, but she very hesitantly places her eye to the glass anyways, praying to every god she doesn’t believe in that there was not someone out there looking to murder her tonight.

She’s met with blonde hair and an ethereal beauty that has never left her mind since it first found its way into her life.

“Inupi,” she croaks out as she fumbles with the lock and pulls the apartment door open. He looks tired, but his eyes crinkle into a smile that hurts her when he looks at her. He’s always so genuine, genuine with everything, and she quickly ushers him inside, unsure how to conduct herself under such softness. “What are you doing here this late?” she says, voice quiet from lack of use and exhaustion. He regards her for a moment, for longer than what is considered normal, and she shifts a little uncomfortably.

“I was in the area, and it’s been a long time since I’ve seen you in person,” he says finally, also speaking softly, and hearing him without the static of a phone crackling his syllables makes her heart jump unbidden.

She thinks of late nights at sixteen years old, sneaking him and Koko into her old room past her overbearing mother, and her heart twists at the memory. So similar to now, but now everything is different.

“You know you’re always welcome here,” she tells him, flipping the lights on, and he utters a soft thank you in response. Her heart aches a little harder. There’s too much more to say. So much to say, and no words to say it right. Suddenly the years of practiced lines die in her throat, and she’s reduced to a husk in her living room, looking at him with the same eyes as a stray dog that’s been kicked too many times. His gentle smile fails as he looks back.

“You look… tired,” he says, and part of her leers at the understatement.

“I am,” she admits, and he takes it all in, the dark circles, the eye bags, the air of melancholy around her that has plagued her since they met at sixteen— but it’s different this time, in a way he can’t place.

“Can I crash with you tonight, then? I don’t want to keep you from sleeping,” he says, suddenly feeling a little guilty for most likely waking her, and her expression twists into a smile so deeply mournful despite her best efforts.

“Yeah. Yeah, you can,” she says, and she recalls how, in those nights when they were kids, Inupi was forced to sleep in her room in order to avoid her mother. “We can share a bed like before, I don’t mind, unless you want the couch.”

Inupi thinks for a moment, before he nods towards her room. “I don’t mind sharing. Thank you,” he says.

Half of Tashi cheers inside. The other half wonders how she’ll get through the night without dying from yearning.

The two fall into the usual routine ingrained in them from their youth— she finds him the same clothes she always gives him, the ones she dubbed his and vowed to always keep aside for him because nothing else fit, and finds him a toothbrush just like before. He takes them gratefully, leaving to the bathroom to change, and she finds a spot on her side of the bed to settle into. She shuts the bedside light off when he returns, crawling into the space beside her, the bed not quite big enough to avoid their skin brushing under the shared blanket. A sigh escapes her lips, easily disguised as a simple heavy breath of fatigue.

She hears him getting comfortable to her left, feels a little warmth radiating from his body, and she shuts her eyes. A little moment of silence, a beat of unsaid words, and, finally, Inupi’s voice, soft and gentle, cuts through the dark.

“Good night, Tashi. Sleep well.”

She smiles, her fears suddenly bearable.

“Good night, Inupi.” Please don’t leave me again.

For the first time in months, she falls asleep properly, her watchdog chasing away the horrors of living, and he regards her as his eyes adjust. He knows something has been plaguing her. He knows something is wrong that he can’t fix, something she refuses to tell him. And as he sees her breathing deeply, he understands his role.

Her watchdog. Her friend. He can’t fix it, but he won’t let her face it alone.

And so the hour grows late, and the world spins on.

[miaountainmama]

everything

characters: inui seishu/inupi x gn!fembodied!reader

contains: smut for no fucking reason other than i need him carnally. minors dni

wc: 1450

a/n: MY TUMBLR'S TWO YEAR ANNIVERSARY WAS YESTERDAY!!! i started this in celebration and also because he's my mans

At a glance, Inupi looks like a rough kind of man.

He works at a motorcycle shop. His hands are calloused and hardened by manual labor. His eyes are in a perpetual state of blank emotion, and he’s tall, carrying himself strongly and steadfast in even the scariest situations. 

You know him well enough to know that this all melts away when you’re with him.

You sigh in bliss as Inupi readjusts the pillows under your head, brushing your hair away from your face and kissing you on your forehead as he positions your bare body underneath his. He was shy about his own, once, back when you had first gotten involved with him and all he knew was shame. His body had always been a source of pain for him, a reminder of who he wasn’t— not enough, not ever— not until you came along, smoothing all his hard edges, treating him with the care and tenderness he hadn’t experienced in any of his recent memory. 

You treated him like he was everything, so he would give you everything in return.

No matter how many times he’s done it before, he always watches with fascination as he coats a finger with your slick and gently, ever so gently slips it inside, taking note of every twitch of your face, the way your eyelids drop half closed and a breathy sort of sound leaves your lips. You’re soft, and warm, and it makes his heart pound with such overwhelming love and lust that he has to kiss you to soothe the rush that goes through his veins. He allows you to adjust, just gently moving his single finger around until he feels you loosen enough to slip a second in, never wanting to hurt you, willing to take as much time as necessary to prepare you for as much pleasure as he could possibly give you. You take it with little resistance, though this time a low groan flies from your throat as he crooks his fingers and delivers a shallow thrust, your thighs twitching around his hand. You don’t notice it, too overtaken by the tenderness blanketing the room, but Inupi’s cheeks redden at the sound.

The rhythm he sets is smooth but firm, treating you softly but with enough purpose that it makes your body run hot. You search for anything to ground yourself, reaching out for him with a whine, and he shushes you, lacing your fingers together with his and pressing the back of your hand to his lips to soothe you. With the way he’s moving, you find yourself unraveling embarrassingly fast, your whimpers and gasps getting more and more frequent and rising in pitch and volume. The whole time, Inupi never quickens his pace, trusting in his knowledge of your body and not wanting to rush you. He knows how to draw the sweetest music from you, and, wanting to hear you sing, tilts his hand to press his thumb to your clit, adding a light circling motion to his routine. You almost sob out his name, a needy Seishu…! that he breathes in like he needs it to survive, and he lets out a heavy exhale, hot with desire and the need to give you the world. He keeps circling and pushing into you with his fingers until he feels you fluttering around him, your breathing stuttering and core tightening around his fingers, and only once he feels you contract around him, on the very edge, does he stop, slowing his movements and delicately removing his fingers from inside you. Your eyes snap open, looking up at him with tears along your lashline at the sudden loss of pleasure, a whine escaping you without you meaning it to, and he murmurs sweet reassurances to quiet you, dipping his head to rest in the crook of your neck. His body slides over yours. He’s always run hotter than you, but your skin is so flushed that he feels colder in comparison-- he runs the hand not propping himself up along your side, tracing adoration into your skin.

Eventually, his hand reaches far enough downward that he’s able to palm and softly drag himself through your heat, not inside but enough to lubricate himself so he doesn’t hurt you. Already dizzy from the tension, you just wrap your legs around his hips, drawing him closer; you always want him closer. You’re so wound up from before that the feeling of his tip against you is enough to make your breath hitch, and as he catches against your entrance you feel his lips against your neck part in a gasp. 

When he finally pushes into you, it’s so slow it makes your head spin, the friction making you dig your fingertips into Inupi’s scalp unbidden as the stretch gets to your head. Instantly, you’re clamping down on him as he slides in, so tight he can’t help but moan into your ear, the light rasp fraying your nerves. You can’t help it, you realize as you suddenly feel it roaring through your body, and as Inupi finally bottoms out, you choke out a Seishu, I- and you’re gone.

It’s finishing early, you know it is, but you can’t fight it as just the feeling of him entering you makes your back arch into him, chests pressing together and hips meeting flush as you shake and moan, unable to care that your lips are right next to Inupi’s ear. Something primal twists in his gut, and he pulls back just to drive back into you steadily, giving you just enough force to prolong your orgasm and keep you in bliss. He holds you close, breathing hard as he pulls back, then pushes forward, and pulls back, and with each loving stroke you sink further and further into ecstasy. At some point your head gets thrown back, neck bent at an uncomfortable angle, but Inupi slides a hand behind your head to gently right it and keep you from hurting yourself. You cling to him desperately, sobbing his name through pleasured wails, and dimly you register that this is a really, really long orgasm— but you can’t complain, it feels good, albeit a bit overwhelming, and Inupi seems to be enjoying himself too. With every clench around him, with every gasp and dull scratch of your fingernails on his back, his pants and light moans deepen, and he shudders in your hold.

The atmosphere is dizzying in the room, the scent of sex and wet sounds of him moving inside you getting to both of your heads. The two of you move in a haze, time slipping by unnoticed, and you don’t know how long it’s been before Inupi’s breath finally catches, letting out a low, hoarse whimper. His pace stutters, his hands gripping you just a little tighter, and he buries himself as deep as he can within you, needing to feel you as much as possible when he tips over. Your arms draw him in to cradle his head when he finally cums, quiet as ever but close enough to your ear that you can hear every gasp and light groan. There are no words exchanged between you as he goes mostly limp above you, lowering himself enough to press every curve of his body against yours but not enough to be heavy. You stay like that for a while, just feeling each other’s warmth, you gently stroking his hair and him clinging to you as he pants. Eventually, his breathing lightens, and you think he’s almost fallen asleep inside you until he presses a kiss to the crook of your neck, then another, open-mouthed and wanting, slowly trailing up until it hits your jaw, then the corner of your mouth, and finally your lips. Your eyes open in question, and as your vision clears you find him already looking at you with eyes so soft and loving it makes your face flush— but you know better than to look away.

He dips down for another kiss, and you accept it— and then you feel it. Your hips jerk up, still sensitive around him, as he dips his thumb to circle around your clit. “One more,” he murmurs, voice laced with the eternal depths of his devotion. “I want you to feel good… can you give me one more?”

Breath catching, you nod, eyebrows furrowing from the pleasure already. You feel his lips turn upwards against your skin.

“I love you,” he says, and you know without a doubt that he means it with every fiber of his being.

You meet his eyes, and, in the warm dim light of the evening, you offer him everything.

[miaountainmama]

oh, if only you were here

characters: chifuyu x gn!reader, v baji centered

contains: just a short drabble. no real fic, just a thought i had. i miss baji every day. i wouldn't share it normally but i thought it was a little too beautiful

wc: 274

a/n: in memory of a boy with so much love to give that chifuyu feels it long after he's gone

Although Chifuyu never puts it into words, he has one subconscious criteria for any person he gets involved with.

Would Baji love you?

And as Chifuyu gazes upon you, love of his life, carefree and so in love with the act of living itself, dancing in the kitchen to a slow Mexican love song Baji always seemed fond of himself, he knows, without a doubt—

Baji would have loved you.

His best friend was always a better judge of character than he was, he thinks. Always has been. Ever since he passed on, Chifuyu has had to do his best without his keen eye, and, yeah, it has led him into some weird situations that he had to fumble to get out of, stat. 

Chifuyu looks upon you now, beautiful and genuine and dappled in the setting sun, and knows that Baji would have wanted to be his best man in your wedding.

He thinks about it, sometimes, when the sentiment catches hold of him and won’t let go-- imagines the three of you crashed in Baji’s room, his mom interrupting every few minutes as she thinks of a new thing she wants to tell you because she loves you too, snacking on junk food Chifuyu had to pay for yet again because the rest of you were too broke. He would watch the two of you bicker, never serious, and remember the times Baji made fun of him for being such a loser romantic with his manga love stories.

He would watch the two of you, and he would think to himself:

I did it, Baji. I found the love of my life.

[miaountainmama]

possessive

characters: kokonoi hajime x fembodied!reader. no gender is mentioned through pronouns or otherwise.

contains: the first smut i ever wrote back in feb 2023. i checked the timestamps. it was 3:43 am. minors dni. lots of praise. i unfortunately love praise. petnames (love, angel, sweetheart, my love) minors dni

wc: 1027

a/n: this used to be about someone else but it was so out of character it's koko now.

Koko had always had a little bit of a possessive streak.

He never thought about it enough to psychoanalyze it-- something about keeping what’s important to him close, something about keeping his prizes in his sight so they’ll never slip away from him again. His money was his. His mind was his. And he was about to make sure everyone knew you were his.

Imagine his displeasure when he found out some other gang nobodies were making advances on you after meetings. Imagine his displeasure when he couldn’t take drastic measures but instead had to settle for threatening the living daylights out of them. His underlings seemed sufficiently terrified, but how would Koko make sure it would never happen again?

He would display for all the world to see that you belonged to him.

You let out a breathy moan as Koko bit down on the side of your neck, and he relished in the sound. Sandwiched between him and the door, his knee between your legs, your neck was already littered with dark spots and love bites. But it wasn’t enough. 

You bit down on your lip to silence another groan as Koko kissed down your collarbones and down your bare chest, and his eyes slid up to bore holes into yours.

“Uh-uh,” he hummed against your skin, eyes darkened. “Let me hear all your pretty noises.”  You whimpered, nodding your head, and a slow smile crept onto your lover’s lips.

“That’s it, love,” he murmured, and, seeking to reward you for your good behavior, latched onto one of your breasts, rolling the other in between his fingers. You gasped, back arching, and, as you moved, your already dripping sex grazed and pressed into Koko’s leg between your thighs. You whined, and Koko almost moaned himself, overtaken with lust. He loved it when you enjoyed yourself.

“Koko,” you stuttered, hands gripping at his hair, legs quivering. “Please…” 

He grinned at the trembling mess you had been reduced to, proud of his handiwork. “Please what, angel?” he cooed, licking over one of the bruises on your neck for good measure. “Use your words, love.” His hands trailed slowly down your body, one stroking your inner thigh while the other toyed with the waistband of your underwear. Your eyes squeezed shut.

“Please— please… touch me,” you managed, mouth thick with desire, and you felt his fingers move upwards from your thigh.

“As you wish,” Kokonoi said, and dragged his fingers slowly along your clothed folds. The pleasure was blinding. You threw your head back and groaned at the sensation, almost losing the strength in your knees and tumbling to the ground.

Koko would have none of that, and gently led you by the waist to his bed. He laid you down, arranging pillows behind your head to prop you up, and left a sweet, lingering kiss on your lips for good measure. He laid down beside you, propped up on one elbow, and brushed a loose strand of hair away from your face. 

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, hands working to slide your underwear down your legs, and your already blushing cheeks heated even further.

You thought to say something, respond to the compliment, but all thought processes were cut short as Koko slid a finger through your naked wetness, coating the skin with a thin sheen. You swore you saw stars, and your clit ached with anticipation.

He set a slow pace, circling lazily, and you already felt like you were on fire. Whines and moans fell from your lips unbidden, and you stuttered your lover’s name like a prayer. He smiled softly.

“Does it feel good, love?” he asked, looking at you through his lashes, and you tried to nod but you couldn’t. You could only throw your head back and groan, fisting the bedsheets. Koko pressed a soft kiss to your jaw and switched to his thumb.

“You’re mine, you hear that?” he muttered into your ear, and you cried out as he sunk one finger into you slowly, down to the knuckle, and then the other. He punctuated his sentence with a sharp press of his thumb to your nub, and you keened.

“I’m yours,” you stammered, parroting him, and he hummed in contentment. 

“Very good, love,” he cooed, rewarding you with a pump of his fingers. You squirmed under him, breathing heavily. “You’re being so good for me today.” 

Praises fell from his lips as he set a steady pace, fingers thrusting in and out with his thumb still circling your clit unhurried. You were beginning to fall apart, and he could tell.

“Just a little more, sweetheart,” he murmured, lightly curling his fingers inside you, and you groaned in response, bucking your hips up to meet his hand. Your cries became louder, more frantic as he continued, and he knew you were close. With a few more thrusts your walls began to flutter around his fingers, and he knew it was the end.

He moved to finish you off with a kiss, but decided against it and instead leaned down to hear every noise you made as you came hard against his hand. 

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he cooed as you rode out your high, babbling his name over and over again. He never stopped once, fucking you through your whole orgasm, only slowing once your breathing evened out and your head fell back against the pillows. Now he gave you that kiss, tongue circling languidly, and removed his fingers.

“Koko,” you sighed, eyes glazed over. Koko tilted his head and gazed down at you affectionately.

“Yes, my love?”

Instead of speaking you just kissed him again, hands wandering and cupping his face and brushing back his hair and trailing down his sides— and he chuckled softly.

“What, that eager for more, sweetheart?”

You blushed heavily, but nodded. Damn if you weren’t going to milk this opportunity with everything you had.

“As you wish,” he dipped his head in acknowledgement, sealing the deal with another press of his lips to yours. 

Hopefully the neighbors would hear. Hopefully the whole world would hear. That would teach them to never try anything with you ever again.

[miaountainmama]

hair pins

characters: akkun x gn!reader

contains: fluff and two stupid idiots. valentine's day mention

wc: 1017

a/n: just like my baji fic i wrote this in february of 2023. cheers enjoy akkun is me fr that's my homie i should put him on my kin list

You had agreed not to get each other anything for Valentine’s Day, but here you were anyways, agonizing over your little purchase as if it would decide the fate of your relationship.

You fiddled with the pink box in your hands nervously. What if he didn’t like them? Or thought they were stupid?

You shook your head to clear your doubts. Christ, you were giving a gift to Akkun— the boy had been nothing but loving to you in his entirety of knowing you. You had nothing to worry about. You had a feeling you could give him a stick and he’d still find a way to be happy about it.

Turning the corner, you found said red-haired boy leaning coolly against the streetlight, arms crossed, right where he said he would be. Despite yourself, you grinned, heart leaping into your throat.

“Akkun!” you beamed, waving with your free hand, and he turned to face you, his bad boy exterior dropping as his mouth stretched into a soft smile.

“Hey,” he greeted, reaching an arm towards you, and you skipped towards it, linking your arm in his. His gaze shifted downwards at the box clutched in your hand questioningly. 

“You’ll find out at your house,” you deflected, and he left it alone. Instead, the two of you chatted about everything and nothing, and you reached his place before you knew it.

“Hi Mrs. Sendou,” you called into the silence as Akkun closed the door behind you, locking it. Somewhere in the house, Akkun’s mom yelled a greeting back to you. The two of you had formed a pact of sorts since you came over to Akkun’s house so often, much to the boy’s dismay, and the two of you often ganged up on him to make fun of him when his ego was too inflated. He complained about it often, but you felt it was your duty as his partner to keep him in line.

The two of you slipped off your shoes and padded over the hardwood floors to his room. Akkun closed the door behind you again, and you immediately spread starfished across his bed, taking up as much room as possible. Akkun frowned, nudging you. You pretended you felt nothing.

“Asshole,” he huffed, and you yelped as he suddenly hoisted up your leg and dragged you to one side. You dissolved into a fit of giggles as he threw your leg down and flopped beside you once you were out of the way, and his faux-irritation melted. 

“What the hell, man,” you wheezed. “I almost dropped your gift.”

“My— wait, I thought we agreed we were gonna go somewhere, not get each other stuff?” Akkun said, voice raising in panic, and you grinned.

“I got you something anyways!” Triumphantly, you handed the small box to your lover, but he frowned, eyes fixated on a small dot on his headboard.

“Now I feel bad,” he said, rubbing a spot on the back of his neck. “I didn’t get you anything.” Oh, he seemed seriously upset. You patted his hand, running a thumb over his knuckles. 

“It’s only something small, don’t worry,” you reassured him. “I just had to get it. It reminded me of you.”

“If you say so,” he said, and you could tell part of him still remained unconvinced. A bigger part of him, however, looked curious. You pushed the box towards him impatiently.

“Come on, open it already!” you urged, and he rolled his eyes at your enthusiasm.

“Okay, okay,” he said, giving in and fiddling with the lid of the box. It took him a few seconds, but he got it eventually, opening it to see the contents inside.

Resting in the black felt lining of the box were three new hair clips.

“There’s two really badass ones just like you!” you exclaimed, jumping ahead to explain yourself. “See, this one’s even shaped like a sword!” You pointed to the clip in the middle, the one gleaming chrome against the dark felt. You babbled on despite the bashful grin slowly creeping onto your boyfriend’s face at the compliment.

“—and this one— this one’s not so badass. but it has my favorite flower on it…” your voice trailed off, suddenly mild and nervous. Akkun carefully lifted the last clip from the box to view it closer.

It was a gorgeous design— he didn’t know why you were so shy about it. One large silver sunflower was fixed on the right of the clip with a few smaller ones scattered down the rest of the length. Leafy stalks wrapped around the body of the clip, swirling in a delicate spiral.

 “…so maybe, when you wear it, you’ll think of me when i’m not there,” you finished lamely, fingers drumming nervously. Softly, Akkun placed his hands over yours, stopping them gently.

“Don’t say that,” he murmured, and you looked into his eyes, surprised at his sudden seriousness. “I’ll always be with you. And hey, sunflowers are pretty badass!” He grinned, shifting the vibe with ease, and you puffed your cheeks out, worries dispelled.

“Uh-huh. Sure. Put them on! I wanna see!”

“Okay,” Akkun agreed, moving his hands to his hair, but you already beat him to it, pulling against the pins with practiced fingers. He huffed, and instead rested his hands on your hips to steady you as you precariously leaned over him. You worked quickly, and soon both sides of his head were decked out in the fashionable new clips.

“There!” you exclaimed, pulling back to admire your handiwork, hands on Akkun’s shoulders. “Showstopping,” you grinned.

Akkun’s cheeks darkened by five shades, and you laughed mirthfully. How cute of him.

…

“Nice hair clips Akkun, where’d you get them? Your…” Yamagishi’s eyes darkened, and he whispered conspiratorially. “…your lover?” Howling with laughter, doubled over, Yamagishi slapped Akkun’s back.

“Oi! You shut up! I promised them I’d wear them!” Akkun growled, shrugging Yamagishi’s arm off his shoulders. 

“Ooh, you’re so whipped, dude,” Takuya snorted, and Akkun whipped around. Him too?

“What— I’ll beat both of your asses,” Akkun grumbled darkly. “Watch your fucking backs.”

[miaountainmama]

the boy next door

characters: baji keisuke x gn!reader

contains: just fluff. fluff all around. wholesome shit. one singular use of y/n even though i hate using it bc i genuinely could not figure out a way around it.

wc: 3122

a/n: so i wrote this in february of 2023 and completely forgot to post it. cheers

You fucking hated the boy next door.

You were tired of the noise, and the ruckus, and the sound of his dumb motorcycle’s engine revving up outside at two in the morning. He had his friends over criminally often, and you had no idea what they did but they were always so loud.

The irritation just grew as you attempted to reread the same paragraph over and over again in your textbook, trying to ignore the raucous laughter streaming in from the other side of  your south bedroom wall. 

You rubbed your eyes.

The Qing Dynasty, officially the Great Qing, was a Manchu-led imperial dynasty in China and the last—

You growled and slammed a fist down between the pages as someone screamed next door. Fuck this, and fuck studying. You seethed, pushing your chair back suddenly, and stood so violently it almost flew onto its side. Was giving them a piece of your mind a bad idea? Yes. Were you going to do it anyway? Absolutely.

The hinges rattled as you threw your bedroom door open and stomped outside, throwing on whatever pair of shoes would be the fastest to put on. You banged a fist against the door three times, and the racket behind it suddenly hushed. There was a shuffling noise and a clinking sound as the door unlocked, and it swung open with a creak. 

There he was. The source of all your woes.

You wouldn’t lie, he was kind of cute, you mused as you gazed upon his sharp features. Long, black hair tumbled down his shoulders and framed his face like something out of a painting, and as he looked you up and down and gave you a friendly smile, you noticed the flash of sharp canines peeking through his lips. This immutable truth pissed you off even more.

“Hey,” the boy started, leaning against the doorframe casually. “Nice shoes.”

You glanced down and scowled at said pair of kicks. Of course nobody would take you seriously in your black platform crocs. 

“Can you and your friends fucking shut up for once?” You ignored the compliment, jumping straight to the point. “I’m trying to study and can’t hear myself think when y’all keep screaming like that.” 

Vaguely, you heard voices behind the boy call out to him, and he motioned for you to hold on.

“It’s the pretty from next door,” he yelled back, and his friends cheered from the depths of the apartment. You swore you were about to bust a blood vessel in your neck.

“Ask them if they want pizza!” someone shouted, and your neighbor turned to you.

“You want some pizza? It’s pepperoni mushroom,” he offered, and you gaped at him.

“Did you not just hear what I said?” you almost laughed in disbelief. The boy waved his hand in the air in dismissal.

“Yeah, sorry. We’ll be more quiet. We’re playing Mario Kart,” he explained, as it that would magically fix everything, and you crossed your arms.

“Well, play it quieter, thanks,” you scoffed at him and turned to leave. “See you around. Or not.”

Unbothered, the boy gazed at you as you stalked back to your door, half-smile on his face.

“Good luck on your test,” he called out, and you huffed, slamming the door on him.

…

The rest of the night passed better than you expected. Of course, there was still quite a bit of noise next door, but it was always interrupted by a hissing “shut up!” and quick apologies. Looks like they were actually trying to keep up their end of the bargain.

The test went as expected— you were fighting for your life in there. Not that you think you failed, since you studied pretty well, but by the end of it you sure were sweating. 

Well, at least it was over. You couldn’t wait to get back to your apartment and relax—

You stopped short. What the hell, you thought dryly. The world had to exist just to spite you.

Approaching from the other end of the hallway was your lovely neighbor next door again. Upon seeing you, his eyes lit up, and he gave you a friendly wave and a grin that was all teeth. 

“Hey!” he called out. “Hope the test went well!” 

“Well enough,” you responded, picking up speed to get to your door faster. 

“I never caught your name, by the way,” the boy said, the two of you reaching your doors at the same time. He leaned against his, one arm up, and you frantically dug around in your pocket for your keys. You swore silently to yourself. Of course you couldn’t find them when it was important.

“I’m (Y/n),” you said, shrugging your bag off your back and hoping he wouldn’t use that shred of info for nefarious purposes. 

“Cool. Baji Keisuke,” he offered, and your hands finally closed around your elusive keys. At least the boy seemed smart enough to tell the conversation was over now, because he went to open his own door.

“See ya then, (Y/n),” he smiled again (was this dude always in a good mood?), and you unlocked your door.

“See you, Keisuke,” you drawled, completely skipping the formalities, and stepped inside, shutting him out. You sighed, shoulders slumped. 

Why did you get the feeling this would become a regular occurrence?

…

Turns out the two of you went to the same school.

It made sense, of course— it was the closest middle school to your building, and you were pretty sure the boy on the other floor, one of Baji’s friends, also went there too. Didn’t make the pill any easier to swallow.

That’s what you said to yourself, at least. Because you would never admit that you looked for him every day in the hallways, and at lunch, and after school when class was dismissed and crowds of students filed eagerly from their rooms— you totally weren’t wondering whether you’d run into each other leaving and have to walk home together. Nope. Was not happening.

Your worst nightmare (that’s what you told yourself) occurred a month later, a little before finals arrived. 

School was over, and you were standing at the crosswalk waiting for the train to pass. There was a light breeze in the air, and you sighed, eyes fluttering shut as it ghosted along your face gently. The sun was warm, comforting, and you couldn’t wait to drop your stuff off at home so you could go out again and enjoy it. That is, until something flashed in your peripheral vision. 

You would recognize that flash of black hair anywhere— and currently, it was bobbing towards you. 

“Hello, Keisuke,” you commented dryly as said boy joined you at the crosswalk, one of his friends in tow. You recognized him. He was the boy that lived in the same building as you— the other boy that wasn’t Baji— and you often saw his blonde undercut following Baji around. Baji flashed you his signature grin, giving you a “hey!” and a small wave.

“Hi,” the friend chirped, hands grasping onto his backpack straps. You tilted your head at him.

“I don’t think we’ve been introduced,” you remarked, and the boy’s cheeks dusted pink.

“This is Chifuyu,” Baji jumped in, slinging an arm around his friend. “He lives in our building.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen him,” you said, offering him a polite nod. Behind you, the bar blocking the tracks raised, signaling the train had passed and it was safe to cross again. Habitually, the three of you began to walk, feet clinking against the metal of the rails, and you sighed internally.

You guessed you all were walking together.

A small part of you cheered at the realization, and you quickly tamped it down. 

The walk was mostly silent on your end, though Baji and Chifuyu chattered on about everything and nothing, and when you reached your building, Chifuyu gave you a small wave as he departed for his floor. You and Baji were left, climbing the stairs together, and you gasped as you tried to catch up to Baji’s enthusiastic strides. 

“Will you— huff— slow down?” you croaked, readjusting the straps of your school bag for the fifth time. “I’m not trying to do cross-country here.”

“Oh— sorry,” the boy apologized as he reached the landing. He slowed, allowing you time to catch your breath. He watched as you soldiered your way up.

“We should do this again,” he remarked casually, watching you struggle, and you bumped him with your shoulder as you finally reached the landing as well.

“Only if you slow down next time,” you said, passing him breezily. He laughed, the sound genuine and contagious, and your lips quirked into a smile despite yourself. 

Maybe he wasn’t so bad.

…

You couldn’t sleep.

Against your will, against all your better judgement, your head was filled with thoughts about Baji. Keisuke this, Keisuke that, Keisuke’s actually really nice, Keisuke is actually really pretty, I wish Keisuke would come over— really and truly degenerate thoughts you never would have guessed you’d be thinking a couple months ago.

You stewed in these thoughts for a while longer, ruminating on just how you came to this point, before the sound of a very familiar engine revving to life snapped you out of your reflection. Keisuke’s bike.

Your feet moved of their own accord. You were by the railing of the third floor in an instant, leaning over and squinting in the dark at the gleam of headlights below you.

“Keisuke!” you called, zeroing in on that familiar head of black hair. You saw him start, and turn his head up towards you.

“Yo!” he called back, waving excitedly from the ground floor. He stared at you for a moment, and you stared back, and you swore you saw gears turning in his head. Then, he was motioning for you to come down, and, despite being in just your shorts and a t-shirt, you went clomping down the stairs, following his orders like some sort of dog.

He was perched on his bike once you came down, and you rubbed your arms a little self-consciously as you stood there in the cold in your pajamas. You pretended you didn’t notice him looking you up and down in the chill of the night air, for your own sanity.

“What’s up?” you questioned him, a little curious as to why he had called you down. You watched inquisitively as he reached for the zipper of his jacket and pulled it down, stripping the thick material off of his body. You flushed and hoped the darkness hid the darkening of your cheeks.

“I’m going for a ride,” he said, holding the jacket out to you. “Come with me.”

You blinked.

“On your bike?”

“Yeah?” he affirmed, although he sounded more confused as to why you were hesitating.

“I’ve… never ridden a motorcycle before,” you said, eyeing the machine pensively, as if it could blow up in on you at any moment.

“Good thing I have,” he joked, and he shook the arm still holding his jacket out to you. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”

You looked at him, and then at the jacket, and then him again. He looked back at you, patiently giving you time to gather yourself, and grinned as you slowly walked forward and accepted his clothing. You shrugged it on, taken aback as to how warm it was, and noted how it smelled like him. You felt a little more confident already.

“Don’t let me fall,” you warned him, and he patted the space on the seat behind him. 

“Of course,” he reassured, and with that, you slid onto the space behind him, hands cautiously finding purchase on his hips. He tsked lightly at you.

“You’ll definitely fall like that,” he said, and without warning pried your hands off of him and tugged you forward so you laid flush against his back. You squeaked, cheeks burning, as he wrapped your arms around his waist instead, and you almost protested— but he stepped on the gas, and the subsequent lurch of the bike forward scared you so badly you ended up squeezing him harder.

“Keisuke!” you gasped, and with a howl of his laughter the two of you were off. You buried your face in his back as the wind whipped your hair back (and his, which wouldn’t stop hitting you in the face) and held onto him tighter, suddenly feeling that this was a very, very bad idea.

It took a good five minutes for you to finally loosen up— Baji was being gracious and not going too fast, and eventually you felt like you could lift your head from his back without dying. Slowly, you tilted your head to the right, watching the growing number of city lights pass by like shooting stars.

Your own laughter bubbled up in your chest before  you could help it, and it spilled from your lips and mixed with the whooshing of the wind and cascaded behind you. The air was cold and biting against your skin and you swore you were probably choking Baji with how tightly you were holding him but God, you had never felt more alive.

“Wanna go faster?” you heard Baji yell from in front, and you could hear the pure jubilation in his voice. 

“Yeah!” you exclaimed as loudly as you possibly could, and you shrieked as he stepped on the gas, the two of you shooting forward like a bullet. You gripped Baji’s waist like a lifeline, but the wind in your hair, the cool air against your skin— it was like a drug.

You made the rounds, traffic slow due to how late in the night it was, weaving from lane to lane when the cars in front went too slow for your liking. It must have been at least an hour before Baji finally rolled his bike to a stop, throwing down the kickstand, and you stretched, finally unwinding your arms from his waist. 

You had arrived at one of the only places open this late at night— your trusty neighborhood 7/11, open twenty four hours a day. Its fluorescents buzzed warmly in the cool night, and you swore nothing could have looked more inviting at that moment.

“I would kill for some onigiri right now,” you said, eying the door.

The lone worker made no attempt to acknowledge your presence as the two of you walked in and grabbed your separate items of food— onigiri for you, yakisoba for Baji— and barely glanced at the two of you as you checked out.

Habitually, you reached a hand into Baji’s jacket, only to end up with nothing. It slowly dawned on you that you had come completely unprepared. You had even left your phone charging on your nightstand.

“I didn’t bring my wallet,” you realized and cursed to yourself, just about to swipe the onigiri from the table to put it back— before his hand grabbed yours.

His hand was warm, and you swore your heart skipped a beat. Electricity shot through your veins.. Time slowed, and your gaze zeroed in on where your skin touched. 

“I’ll pay,” he said, and you couldn’t really argue because it was only a few hundred yen. Your eyes met his, and he looked at you as if he were just daring you to disagree. Huffing, you pulled back, pretending to be unaffected by the sudden contact.

“Thanks,” you said, genuinely, and he grinned at you with those charming sharp teeth of his. Leaving the store and looking for a place to sit down, the two of you decided to sit on the sidewalk outside the store. It was late, and nobody was around, so you supposed no one would mind.

Baji handed you your onigiri and you thanked him, peeling open the plastic wrapping while he cracked open the box of yakisoba.

“So,” he began, and you paused mid-chomp. “You having fun?”

The answer was fast and instinctual. “I think this has been the best night of my life,” you gushed, face lighting up, onigiri forgotten as you turned your head to smile widely at Baji. “Thanks for taking me along.” He nodded at you because that’s all he could really do with a face full of noodles, but he seemed legitimately pleased.

“In the beginning I swear I thought I was gonna die,” you chattered. “But then I got used to it and I’ve never felt more alive,” you said, gesturing widely. “We have to do this again. Um, that is, if you’ll let me.” Suddenly bashful, you turned your head, hoping you hadn’t overstepped. What if this was just a one time thing? You didn’t know if you could go on living normally if it was. You’d be chasing that high forever.

“We should,” Baji cut in, snapping you out of your thoughts, and you looked at him, breaking into the most dazzling smile. 

“Really?” you questioned, spirits soaring.

“Yeah,” he said, tapping his yakisoba box with his chopsticks. “Stop talking and eat your damn food already.” He was already halfway through his box. You flushed and turned back to your onigiri, munching on it happily. He watched you for a moment, face unreadable but for the small smile on his lips.

It must have been close to four in the morning by the time the two of you reached home again, drunk on the freedom of the ride. The streetlights burned warm yellow as you dismounted, and you fiddled with the zipper of his jacket, pulling it down and shrugging the fabric off. He took it with a small thanks, and you followed as you began climbing the stairs (slowly this time, you noticed). Your footsteps echoed up the stairwell as you walked, and the night was blanketed with silence. You almost hesitated to break it.

“I really had fun tonight,” you said lowly. Baji turned to you, flashing that signature toothy grin of his.

“Good,” he replied, and the two of you reached your doors. You almost wished you hadn’t— you didn’t want the night to end, but you were tired, dammit.

“Well, I guess this is it,” you said, loath to leave him.

“Yeah,” he said, sounding equally reluctant, and you just stood by your doors for a few seconds.

“I’m always one door away, Keisuke.”

Something in Baji’s eyes softened as he looked at you, and you blushed for the umpteenth time that night.

“Okay. I’ll come bother you next time we need a player four,” he said, and you smiled at him.

“Good night, Keisuke.”

“Good night, (Y/n).”

You opened your doors, and stepped into the threshold beyond.

[miaountainmama]

selfish

characters: keiji shinogi x gn!reader

contains: keiji hates himself. fluff, sfw. really just an excuse for me to make keiji suffer but also not suffer. lazy writing

wc: 847

a/n: i posted this and then i was like why is it getting no attention. i forgot the tags lol so anyways repost

Keiji is used to being many things. He’d done a fair amount of undercover work back in the day, after all— and, more often than not, he had to do a little pretending to get that perfect piece of evidence.

A store clerk. A car salesman. A doctor.

A lover, however, was a role he had never had to play, for work or otherwise. And, while he was not one for perfection, he is determined to not mess this one up once.

He does his share of the housework. He remembers every important day. He is the golden image of a partner— except for one thing.

Keiji often comes home criminally late, the sky stretching into the small hours of the morning by the time his keys make it to the lock on the door. He can’t help it— it’s his job to stay for as long as he’s needed— but it doesn’t make the cold sheets and painfully empty space beside you any easier to deal with.

Tonight is another one of those nights. Another night where the darkness seems to stretch on for eternity, the light ticking of the clock on the wall crawling forward at a snail’s pace; another night where, despite how unreasonable it is, you wish he’d just quit his job already and retire. God knows he deserves to.

You don’t know how long you’ve been lying there for, staring at the black where the ceiling would be, but the desperation to just sleep already dissipates the moment you hear the clinking at the door. Apparently, Keiji is impatient too— you hear him pad over to the bedside in record time, already in a change of clothes.

“Hey,” you mumble sleepily, throwing the covers aside so he can join you.

“Hey,” he grins, crawling into the space you left him. The bags under his eyes stretch with the movement, and you can’t help but notice how prominent they are, more so than usual. You frown.

“You’ve been working late too much,” you murmur, and he exhales deeply.

“I know,” he says. “I promise it won’t be for much longer.”

“It better not be,” you say, though the words have no bite, and his eyes soften at the way your voice sweetens. It fills him with a feeling he can’t exactly describe.

Keiji knows it’s not healthy to feel the way he does. He knows it’s not right to have his chest tighten any time you send him a smile, a laugh— knows the bittersweet tinge to every happy moment isn’t how things should be. Yet they are, and when you reach for him and pull him to your chest, hand running through his shaggy hair, he resists the urge to instinctively switch your places. It isn’t fair to you—- he should be the one holding you, treating you with love and care. It’s always you making the sacrifices, always you making him feel like he’s worth something when he’s not. He’s already done enough damage to you by taking your love, your time, your devotion— to make you put any extra effort into caring for him is just wrong. Corrupt, even.

He supposes he really is a criminal.

He shakes his head when you ask him how work was. He can’t speak right now, not without his voice breaking, and he can’t have you misplace any more of your concern. Instead, he just wraps his arms around you, breathing deeply, albeit a little shakily, and thinks of a time when he was once whole— back when he was the kind of person who could give you what you deserved.

“Your roots are growing back in,” you say lowly, interrupting his train of thought, and it makes him frown even harder as you mess with his hair, inspecting the now dark areas near his scalp. Another reminder of who he once was.

Another reminder of what he’s not.

“When do you clock in tomorrow? I can help you bleach them in the morning if it’s not too early,” you offer, and Keiji, ever selfish, takes the distraction.

“2 P.M.,” he murmurs from where he’s buried into the crook of your neck, and you hum in acknowledgement.

“It’s a deal then. I’ll get you in perfect shape before work,” you smile, pressing your lips to the top of his head. He lets out a contented sigh unbidden, pulling you closer.

You regard him for a moment, just running your fingers through his hair, and, taken by the emotions running through the silent room, whisper a sweet “I love you” to him.

“You-…” He starts, and as he trails off, there are so many ways he wants to take the sentence. You shouldn’t. You deserve better. But you tap his head, a gentle little reminder as if you can read his thoughts, and he wills his mind to quiet. Instead, he lets out a heavy breath and says, “I love you, too.”

“Good night, Keiji,” you smile, and you feel his lips slightly curl up against your skin too.

“Good night, sweetheart. Sweet dreams.”

[miaountainmama]

obsessed with childhood best friends to lovers trope. growing up together. constantly evolving, constantly changing, but staying— choosing to stay. loving each other since before romance was even a thought, loving each other so wholly because you know them— all of them. quiet summer nights in oppressive heat, calling until 3 in the morning. knowing their laugh and also how they cry. remembering their favorite song and also remembering that one time they were 13 and really into seeming edgy. existing in whatever form they’ll take you as— a lover, a friend, as long as they’re there. it is them and it has always been them. there has never been a time where you have not loved them

[miaountainmama]

best friend

characters: VY2 yuuma, gn!reader contains: best friends to lovers fluff that's it

wc: 1293

a/n: i had a fat crush on this guy when i was 14 (so like. 8 years ago). anyways i got vocaloid as a software bc i was missing him and i've been making covers with him. vy2 takeover you will always be famous to me even though nobody knows who the fuck you are

The low hum of the fan whirs as you type on your phone, the clicking sounds echoing quietly in your room as you lie on your bed. The blanket is thrown off to the side somewhere, discarded for now due to the oppressive summer heat, and this is reflected in your attire— shorts and a tank top, unlike the man sitting across the room at your desk. You pause your typing to look at him spinning in circles in the chair, and he stops to look back, feeling your eyes go up and down his form.

“What?” Yuuma asks, already sounding a little defensive, and you give him one final once-over before you shake your head.

“Why are you wearing all that?” you question, gesturing vaguely with your hand holding your phone, and he looks down at himself a little self-consciously. Yes, the hoodie was a bit much in this heat, but…

“I look dumb without it,” he finally answers, and you don’t miss the hint of vulnerability that laces his tone. Normally, you would never pass up the chance to make a dig at him— but not this time. Not when it would make him feel worse. He did not deserve to feel worse— not your best friend.

“Come on, Yuuma, you know that’s not true,” you say, voice mild and sweet, a tone it rarely takes on, and he lowers his gaze, eyes shifting to the side. You’ve never really been too observant, so you miss the reddish tint that dusts his cheeks— his body language is so obvious, though, that you can tell he’s flustered without much scrutiny. “You’re super cute. You don’t look dumb.”

His cheeks darken further, and now you actually notice it. 

To save his pride, you don’t point it out, but your eyes do soften, looking upon him with a fond look only reserved for him— your Yuuma, your other half. 

He is your best friend, but also so, so much more than that. What exists between you and him goes further than platonic love, goes further than romantic love— your souls are cosmically intertwined, and you are willing to be whatever he desires you to be. A lover. A friend. As long as he is in your life and you are in his, you are content.

These thoughts flit through your head half-formed as you look at him, a slight smile gracing your features. He’s still looking past you at a spot on the wall, so you half sit up then, patting the space on the bed next to you.

“The fan reaches over here better, if you want,” you offer. He finally makes eye contact with you, lime irises unusually sensitive, but he stands, hesitantly shedding his hoodie and moving to the spot you set aside for him. Now in just his green T-shirt, you can practically sense the relief from his body now that he wasn’t overheating. He collapses on the mattress next to you, reclining on his elbow, and you lean back against the pillows again. You think you prefer him like this— close to you. You can’t fight the smile on your face from widening. A little bit of soft music and this moment would be perfect. You tap the Spotify app on your phone and begin to scroll through your playlists, finding… nothing of note.

“Yuuma?” you ask, and he blinks at you, looking up from his own phone. “Do you know any soft music we can listen to right now?”

“Yeah, I’ve been listening to a lot recently,” he says, beginning to tap swiftly on his phone. “I can send you some, if you want.” 

Perfect. 

“Sick. No need, I’ll just look at your account,” you say offhandedly, searching up his username and clicking— Yuuma, however, bolts upright the minute you say this, nearly yanking the phone out of your hand if it wasn’t for the fact that you startled out of his reach at the sudden movement.

“Don’t-“

He’s too late. You see the new playlist the moment his profile loads, a playlist adorned with a cover of two holding hands— and your name as the title. You stare at it for a second, and then at him, and he stares back, horrified, looking as if he wants to be anywhere but here suddenly. You say nothing and click into the playlist.

“They’re all love songs,” you note with a level voice, so carefully controlled that Yuuma can’t tell how you feel at all. But you’ve found his secret, and he has no choice but to come clean.

“That’s because I’m in love with you,” he says.

Your scrolling freezes, and you glance up. He’s looking at you with astounding intensity, and you swear he’s nearly trembling from whatever is running through his mind. 

You take that statement and rotate it in your head for a second. He’s in love with you. He cares about you. You are important to him. What was he to you?

He was anything and everything.

“You are the most important person in the world to me,” you say in return, and his hands twitch from where they rest on the sheets. He lets out a dry laugh, barely audible over the fan.

“I don’t know what that means for me,” he admits, breathing shaky— somehow, you are the opposite, the perfect picture of calm.

“I’ll be… whatever you want me to be,” you say, back to that mellow tone. “I love you, too. Always have, always will.”

You watch his expression change from tension to shock to a hesitant joy, and your heart lurches as he gives you a beautiful half-smile. You want to make him smile all the time.

“Okay. Okay… that’s…” he breathes. He struggles for a minute before he recollects himself, and you’re patient the whole time. “…Can I kiss you?” he breathes.

A surge of feeling, of something in your chest. You nod, sitting up, and he sits up too, shuffling closer, a little awkward but so, so willing. From this close you can see all the features you’ve learned to love about him— the careful slope of his nose, his piercing eyes, now nervous but full of affection— and you find yourself leaning closer still as he reaches up to cradle your head with one of his hands. You lean into the touch, eyes fluttering half-shut, and you hear him suck in a heavy breath at the action. Your own hands steady yourself on his chest, one braced against his front, the other resting on his shoulder— and then your lips meet.

It’s clumsy but full of love. His lips are warm, and it starts off shy before he realizes hey, you’re actually into this— and then it’s all enthusiasm, his other hand coming up to mess with your hair and then the small of your back. Your eyes slip closed at some point, your hands moving to his soft pink hair, though they open when he gently pulls away. He’s already looking at you like you’re the world, and it sends a little wave of heat to your face— it makes him grin, beaming like he’s the happiest man in the world, and to him, he might as well be. He moves in for another kiss.

“I’ve been in love with you for so long this doesn’t feel real,” he murmurs against your lips. You don’t answer him with words, sealing your feelings into your kiss.

You’d kiss him for as long as it would take for him to realize it was real. For as long as it would take for him to realize how worthy he was of your love.

Until the world stopped spinning, until your final breath.

Forever and always your best friend.

[miaountainmama]

sharp

characters: boothill, gn!reader contains: little angst that's resolved by the end. boothill is terrified of love

wc: 1148

a/n: i love boothill so much that i needed to write something with thought and emotion and not just smut. i have 3 other boothill fics in the works because i keep getting ideas. girl help

You have always loved softly. You know this, have embraced it, giving your soft touches and quiet words freely. Boothill has forgotten how to love. It has been so long since he loved that his love has turned sharp, pierces through his heart and wounds him so deeply he can’t stand it. He cannot recall how to love like you do anymore— he can only scream the depths of his affection from the rooftops, harsh and loud, and hold you so tightly he swears you’ll break. He has become so sharp he’s afraid, afraid he’ll puncture your soft skin, afraid the razor edge of his smile will leave you bleeding.

Fear doesn’t suit Boothill, but you see it in every glance he gives you. It drives you insane, the way his expression sobers when he’s around you. That near-constant smile of his drops clean from his face, turning into the gentle slope of a frown that just doesn’t look right on him. Existing in the same room as him has become suffocating, the sheer longing in his being crashing from his body in waves so strong they’re capable of sending you to your knees. Still, he withdraws-- his touches have become few and far between, and when you tell him you love him, that look of anguish he gives you nearly breaks you.

“I’m not fragile, you know. You’re not going to snap me in half,” you tell him, stepping closer to him, and it doesn’t escape you the way that he leans back slightly, that all familiar expression bubbling up in his eyes.

“I… I can’t, darlin’,” he says in return, voice laced with yearning that he refuses to address, and your own eyes turn desperate, though you know you can’t force anything. You want to reach out and grab him so badly, to press yourself against him and thread your hands through his hair and tell him it’s okay, that you know he would never hurt you on purpose, that anything he does you can take-- but you know it’ll make it worse. You know it’ll drive the knife in his heart a thousand times deeper.

Instead, you reach out your hand.

He looks at it questioningly, lips slightly parted in a question, and you just gesture until he gets the memo-- you would almost think his mechanics were malfunctioning, the way his hand stutters on the way to yours, and when his fingers brush against yours ever so lightly you smile at him, a smile so soft and patient he feels like a wounded animal before you. Gently, you lead him to the couch, sitting down and motioning for him to sit beside you. He does, taking a seat right in the middle of the late afternoon sun filtering through the blinds, and it lights his hair up golden.

“Do you love me, Boothill?” you start simply, knowing without a shadow of a doubt that this man was head over heels for you. He nods, not a sliver of hesitation running through his veins.

“More than life itself,” he says, and you hum in acknowledgement. You run your thumb over his knuckles, and that everlasting ache in his eyes intensifies.

“Then what’s stopping you?” you ask, and he goes silent. His head dips, and you can feel him struggle, at war with his own thoughts.

“I ain’t too good with words, darlin’,”, he admits, and you don’t miss that little undercurrent of shame in his tone. You tilt your head slightly, leaning back slightly to make yourself just a bit more comfortable in the cushions.

“Think about it. I can wait as long as you need,” you say, and his gaze flickers up to meet yours for a moment before it goes back to your hands resting softly on each other. He takes a minute or so, refusing to make eye contact for its entirety and then some.

“You don’t deserve a man like me,” he starts, and you huff, rolling your eyes. Of course he would land on a reason so basic and absurd. No, you needed him to unpack that a little more, dive a bit deeper.

“Why?” you probe further, and he takes another pause.

“I ain’t fit for much but shootin’ these days, darlin’. Haven’t loved anything in so long I think I’ve forgotten how.” He’s still looking at anything but your face, and it’s almost boyish, the way he’s near hiding. You reply as easily as breathing.

“You can always relearn,” you say, and his eyes finally snap to yours.

“What if I mess up? What if I hurt you?” he says, urgent, and your voice is ever calm in contrast. You send him another small smile.

“Oh, you will,” you say with finality, and his face scrunches up-- he moves to pull away his hand, but you’ve suddenly tightened your grip, and he gives up and leaves it there without too much resistance. You’re too calm about this, too willing.

“Then why would I-”

“Boothill,” you interrupt, and he shuts up the moment the words leave your mouth. “Did you make mistakes when you became a parent?”

Understanding the point you’re getting at, he frowns. “Of course I did, but-”

“Do you regret it then? Being her dad?”

That stops him in his tracks.

“Of course not. I… she was my little girl, darlin’, my pride and joy,” he says, and you can hear the hurt in his voice, the wistfulness as he’s taken many years into the past. Part of you regrets bringing her up, but you know he needs a personal analogy to get out of the headspace he’s in and she’s the only example you can think of.

“Then do you regret loving me?” you ask quietly.

“There is not a single damn reality where I regret loving you, darlin’,” he answers you, face dead serious, and it soothes your heart. That’s all the answer you need from him and he knows it-- you just look at him, face softening as you wait for him to connect the dots and piece together what you’re implying.

That it’s worth it. That a life in which you have loved and experienced pain is worth more than a thousand lifetimes without loving. That mistakes are inevitable and a part of anything. That you know all this and have accepted it wholly-- have accepted him wholly, him in all his imperfections. 

He looks back at you. He looks back at you and swears he sees the whole world-- you in the sunlight, infinitely forgiving and merciful, and he nearly renounces his faith then and there. Forget the Hunt-- forget Lan, forget any Aeon and the paths they have built. Compared to the divinity before him, they are nothing, and he knows his heart must answer in kind.

He reaches out tentatively to touch your face, and you swear you melt.

[miaountainmama]

capable

characters: jing yuan, fembodied!reader contains: pwp, shameless smut, gentle sex, lots of praise. he calls you beloved and bends you over his desk and also eats you out. also he's larger than you because he's like 6'3" so sorry if you're somehow his size. minors dni or i'll eat your bones

wc: 3829

a/n: FIRST HSR POST WOOOOO boothill is my man but i wrote this for my bf. he then told me jing yuan is talking to reader like a horse. everyone stone him

“The Cloud Knights are already stretched thin as they are, so I don’t think it would be wise to dispatch them for this.”

You stare unseeing at Yanqing as he reports before the stairs in front of the desk in the Seat of Divine Foresight. On a normal day, you were a gold star employee, the perfect picture of Jing Yuan’s assistant: attentive, well-mannered, and adept at many things. However, it’s impossible to focus on Yanqing from where you stand by the railing— impossible to focus on anything but the feeling of the General’s golden eyes resting upon your form. You feel yourself being picked apart by his gaze, and though you attempt to maintain a cool facade, leaning against one of the posts of the railing, you can feel your collar getting a little hot under the unwavering attention. You can feel his eyes traveling, alternating between your face and the plush of your thighs being squeezed by your shorts. It’s an exposing feeling… not that you mind.

Jing Yuan, on the other hand, seems to have no problem paying attention to two things at once. He leans forward against his desk, his honeyed stare finally moving off of your body and back to the poor boy just doing his job. You try your best not to think about the way his hands flexed around the wooden surface, try your best not to think about how they’d feel holding you down instead. Your mouth slowly twists into a sly smirk at the idea as he opens his mouth to speak.

“I see. I suppose I will take care of this matter personally, as it seems my assistant looks a little… preoccupied at the moment. I am more than capable.”

Your eyes snap to his, losing their unfocused haze, and they narrow, a little embarrassed but not entirely displeased at being caught thinking about him. He’s already looking at you again, eyes half-lidded and glinting with mirth and unspoken hunger, and you match his expression.

“Oh… more than capable? Are we underestimating me now, General? I don’t take kindly to that, you know. Perhaps I’ll need you to show me just how… capable you can be,” you purr, wrapping your fingers around the railing and tilting your head forward to look at him through your lashes. His eyebrows raise minutely before he lets out a low rumble of a laugh from deep in his chest, looking pleased at the way you responded. He shifts forward as well, lips curling upwards, and he looks about ready to tease you right back before a voice cuts through the tension.

“Of course the General is capable. He’s the General, are you crazy?” Both of you look at Yanqing, completely oblivious to the mood in the room, and you resist the urge to sigh (and/or strangle him). Still, you take the interruption in stride. You can’t fault him for being just a boy.

“Seeing is believing, and I’m sure there’s a lot the General hasn’t shown me,” you say, not missing a beat. Yanqing looks about ready to interject again, ready to defend the General’s honor, but before he can, you hear the smooth lilt of Jing Yuan’s voice interrupt.

“It seems I haven’t been entirely open with my assistant. Yanqing, you’re free to go. I’ll work out the finer details with them. We’ll take it from here.”

“Are you sure? You don’t need me here to-”

“Yes, Yanqing, I’m sure. You have the rest of the day to do as you wish. Please, leave us,” Jing Yuan says, eyes never leaving you, and Yanqing gives a short bow and a “yes, General” before following orders, softly shutting the door and leaving the two of you alone. The two of you don’t blink, staring into each other’s eyes as you hear his quick footsteps fading away.

The moment the echoes disappear, he’s on you.

He has one large hand on your thigh, the other pulling you close by the small of your back, and your eyes immediately flutter shut in triumph. Yes, this is what you’ve been thinking of, yearning for all day. Your hands are in his hair, tugging his face closer and capturing his lips in a heated kiss, thumb brushing against the mole on his cheekbone. He’s bent over, neck craning down to reach you, and he walks you back slowly to sit you on his desk. You barely notice the cool feeling of the wood against your thighs, too preoccupied with getting more, feeling more. You reach for one of the belts around his waist, wanting to waste no time, but are stopped by Jing Yuan grabbing your wrist.

“What’s the rush, beloved?” he asks in a low voice, the slightest hint of a laugh gracing his tone. He guides your hand back up to hold his face and hair again before tilting your chin up and to the side with a finger. 

Everything Jing Yuan does to you, he does slowly. Painfully slowly, at times. This was one of those times.

“General,” you whine as he goes for where your neck meets your jaw, pressing a long, lingering kiss there. Still, he remains unbothered, though he does lightly nip at the skin with his teeth.

“Jing Yuan. You know you can call me anything you like when we’re alone,” he corrects, soothing the new red mark with his tongue. Already, he’s leaving you breathless, and you nod, feeling the heat rushing through your body at the pleasurable sensation. It’s not enough, though, and you tell him as much, pulling him closer by the hips,

“Then, Jing Yuan,” you say. “Hurry up already.”

Another kiss to your neck, another gentle laugh. “I have a whole lifetime to do as I please with you. Besides, you haven't pleaded your case convincingly enough,” he says, though he does indulge you a little by unhooking the clasp around your collar. You whine again as he pushes the fabric to the side, now pressing his lips against the crook of your neck.

“Pleaded my case? What, do you want me to beg you?” you ask, hands threading through his long white hair and tugging lightly, and you feel his lips curl into a lazy grin at the thought.

“Now that doesn’t sound so bad,” he says, punctuating his words with a squeeze to your thigh. His other hand wanders, caressing the curve of your waist, sliding upwards until it reaches the cutout in your shirt above your breasts. He moves his face from your neck as he slips his hand under the fabric, returning to kiss your lips as he cups a breast and teases a nipple with a finger. Your entire body jolts forward at the touch, back arching, and you let out a small noise into Jing Yuan’s lips as he kisses you. Again, you can feel his mouth curve into a slight smile at the action.

You’re incredibly needy by this point, heart racing, and you swear you’re probably going to have a wet spot through your shorts if he keeps going at this rate. Your core is aching for sensation, for sweet release.

“Jing Yuan,” you pant, pulling away from his kiss slightly. His eyes flutter open, meeting your gaze with his own golden eyes before he closes them again and pulls you back in, seeming just as unhurried as ever. You pull back a second time, more insistently this time.

“Jing Yuan, please,” you say, and you see something flash in his expression as his eyes open to look at you again. He reaches up to touch your face, and you realize you’ve found a sensitive spot— and you’ll exploit it as much as possible.

“Please,” you repeat, lacing your voice with as much need as possible, making sure to look directly into his eyes. On the outer rim of your vision you can see his Adam's apple bob as he swallows once, something sparking through his face a second time. Once you drop a hand down to trail along his chest, he’s done for.

“How can I refuse when you ask so sweetly?” he says, looking pleased, and he maneuvers you to stand with his hands. You follow his movements without complaint, though your face does burn as his fingers hook around the waistband of your shorts and pull down. He motions for you to sit back on the desk, so you step out of your shorts and do so, feeling the cool surface of the wood against your bare body. You swear you can feel your quickened pulse between your legs as he nudges them open and spreads them slightly, and you make a softly embarrassed noise as it displays how wet you are for him to see. However, his eyes sparkle with delight, and his right hand drops down to lightly touch you. When his finger pulls away from your core, it’s shiny from slick.

“Oh… now that’s a sight to see. Mind if I take a closer look?” he murmurs lowly, and you nod, not sure what he means but willing to let him do anything to you at this point. You blink in surprise as he drops to his knees in front of you, kneeling in between your legs, and you resist the urge to close them around his head in embarrassment as he comes face to face with your heat. He reaches out to touch again, gently spreading you open with his thumb, and your breath catches at the feeling. You say nothing, opting to let him do as he pleases, and he switches to tracing the lines of your folds with his middle finger. He’s slow, careful with it, and you feel incredibly lewd as his finger gets coated with your wetness. He traces his finger down again, and with one motion sends you reeling as he sticks it inside you to the knuckle.

He looks up at you from below, taking in your face as you watch him, your breath coming out in heavy pants as you feel your walls clenching and unclenching around his finger to adjust to the feeling. He gives you a moment of brief reprieve before he’s gently pumping it in and out, finding your clit with a thumb then leaning in to latch his lips around it. You let out a strangled moan at the feeling as he sucks on it, languidly stroking his tongue across the bud, your hands flying to his hair to steady yourself as he eats you out. It feels humiliatingly good, every slow drag of his tongue around your clit and every measured thrust of his finger sending you further into ecstasy. You cover your mouth with the back of your hand to muffle your sounds, but the moment you do so, Jing Yuan ceases in his actions, slowing to a stop and pulling away to look at you. 

“I don’t intend to hold anything back, so you shouldn’t either,” he says, coaxing you to lower your hand, and he hums in approval as you return it back to his hair. “Very good. Always so good for me.” 

He dives back in, sucking and swirling his tongue around, pumping his finger, and this time, you let your shaky moan of pleasure free. His hand tightens around your thigh when he hears it, going at you a little harder, and you respond in kind, tugging at the strands of his silky white hair. You’re so worked up that he’s getting you there embarrassingly fast— your walls begin to clench around his finger, and it doesn’t help when he slides a second one in, curled just right and hitting just the right places. His unhurried pace continues even as you suddenly jerk forward, a groan of his name leaving your lips as you release all over his fingers. Your head tilts back, mouth gasping and whimpering and making all sorts of wanton noises as your body twitches from the relentless stimulation. It’s not until your moans subdue somewhat that he pulls back, resting a cheek against your thigh and looking up at you with adoring eyes. You’re breathing heavily, eyes unfocused, though they twitch a bit when he removes his fingers from inside you. He wipes them on his pants, lightly caressing your inner thigh with the other hand. He presses a kiss to the skin there as you recover at least a little bit, though he doesn’t let you waste all the time he spent preparing you. After a few more seconds he’s smoothly climbing to his feet to tower over you again.

Jing Yuan grabs you by the hips, gently pulling you off the table. His grip is firm, and despite the slight weakness in your knees, he doesn’t let you fall.

“Careful, beloved. We can’t have you hurting yourself, now,” he says, still wearing that smug, lazy smile. You hum in acknowledgement, grabbing onto him to steady yourself, and he leans down to kiss you softly before turning you around so your back is to him. He pushes at the small of your back, carefully coaxing you to bend over at the waist over his desk and tracing down your spine as you fold over. You can feel his hands massage your hips for a brief moment before they’re gone, leaving you cold and wanting for his touch. You try your best to keep your eyes straight forward, though, looking out the window behind his desk as you hear the clink of his metal belt buckles. The belts are quickly tossed beside you on the desk, followed by the sound of fabric rustling, and your heart is pounding from anticipation as you hear him take a controlled, slow breath from behind. 

A warm hand returns to your hip, and you unconsciously lean into the touch.. “Are you ready, my love?” he asks, stepping closer, and you can feel the heat radiating from him— it makes you nearly salivate, imagining just what he’s going to do to you in a moment.

“Yeah. Please,” you reply, urging him on, and he chuckles lowly before you feel him slide his cockhead along the wetness between your legs. Your eyes nearly roll back in your head at the contact you’ve been waiting for for hours, hips bucking backwards.

“Easy, now,” he says, light laughter in his voice, though it sounds a little strained. Perhaps the need is getting to him too— it’s certainly getting to you, evident by the shallow, rushed breaths you’re taking. You don’t complain though as he coats himself in your slick, knowing it’ll help it feel better in the long run and knowing he’ll take his time no matter what you do. After he deems himself sufficiently lubricated, he holds himself steady, not quite inside you yet but prodding at your entrance. He holds still, just taking in the sight, the view of you at his complete mercy, and just when you’re about to turn around and tell him to hurry up he pushes forward, slowly, not wanting to hurt you. He’s always been large, but considering how much smaller you were than him, he feels he has to be extra careful.

Your breath hitches as he splits you open inch by inch, eyes fluttering half shut as you feel the stretch. A shaky moan leaves your lips as he bottoms out, his hands going to stroke your hips to soothe you.

“There we are. You’re doing well, beloved,” he says, voice smooth and soft, and you swear that him speaking just makes you feel that much better. He pulls back, leaving just the tip in, before lazily thrusting in again— it rips a heavy moan from deep in his chest, and, true to his word from earlier, he doesn’t hold anything back. As he sets a steady, slow pace, he’s not loud by any means, but he certainly doesn’t care to muffle his noises. His occasional groans and frequent words of praise make you clench around him, which just makes him groan even more. The room is filled with your noises, his noises, and the sound of slick skin against skin— and you get even louder when he reaches around you, swiping a finger against your wetness before beginning to gently rub at your clit. Your back arches further, head tilting back, as you let out the most debauched moan you ever have in your life. Jing Yuan chuckles from behind you.

“Does it feel good?” he teases, and your head lolls forward, a desperate whimper leaving your mouth from the feeling of him both inside and outside of you. 

“Yeah,” you whine. “So good.”

He hums in satisfaction, leaning over to press a kiss to your shoulder blade and upping his pace just a little bit. He’s certainly not going fast— it’s always been his style to carefully work you towards your climax, to enjoy the buildup rather than get you there immediately. Still, it sets pleasurable fire running through your veins, and your hands clench from where they’re holding onto the desk. Every drag of his cock inside you sends you closer to the edge, your body beginning to shake slightly. Your eyes are unseeing, too caught up in the feeling of in and out, in and out, circling around, rubbing, in and out. A warm feeling is beginning to stir in your gut, a tightness forming in your core, and you nearly salivate as you want more, need more. 

“Jing Yuan,” you whimper, wanting to convey as such but not having the capability to utter more than a few words at a time. “Jing Yuan,” you try again, and you hear the smile in his voice as he gently shushes you, thumb caressing your hip.

“It’s all right, my love, I understand. I’ve got you,” he murmurs, and he begins to snap his hips deeper, still gentle but deeper. It rips a strangled moan from your throat, your eyelids fluttering, and that pleasured feeling grows tenfold. Your moans grow more frequent, more desperate, and you clench around him, trying your best to hold yourself back from cumming too fast. You’re breathing heavily, trying to control yourself, but then you feel him lean in over you again, murmuring close into your ear.

“You don’t have to hold back, beloved. Go ahead. I promise it’ll feel better,” he says, voice all warm and soft, and you take his words in stride— who are you to deny your General? A few more thrusts, a few more circles on your clit and you’re gone, neck snapping backwards as you let out a choked wail of pleasure, electricity flying through your entire body as your hands nearly leave imprints in the surface of the desk. Your vision blurs, likely due to the crystalline tears that have sprung to your eyes, and your back arches as your body seizes. Jing Yuan holds you steady, murmuring placating praises as your hips buck. He doesn’t stop his motions, fucking you through your high, and you swear your knees almost give out on you as the heat just doesn’t stop. Even once the ecstasy dulls somewhat, your moans subsiding by just a hair, pleasure remains, and you want him to keep going, keep going until you’re spent, until he’s spent, until the both of you collapse. You yourself are probably near the point of collapse at this point, legs like jelly, and, sensing this from where he’s half holding you up, Jing Yuan nudges one of your legs up so you’re half perched on his desk now.

“Careful, my love,” he says, still thrusting lazily into you, and you just whine back, now resting all your weight on the wood surface. He readjusts the hand that circles your clit to the new position, and the type of friction changes— all your nerves feel like they fry in response. Behind you, Jing Yuan’s breathing has deepened, though it remains steady and controlled. Only you know that it means he’s close— he only sounds this disciplined, this restrained when he’s trying not to cum. Occasionally, deep “mmmhh”s and “ah”s leave his lips, though they’re quiet, and Aeons, the thought of him letting go is so hot it makes your walls flutter and pulse around him. 

“Oh, beloved,” he groans at the feeling, hands tightening around your hips, and his thrusts are starting to get a bit sloppy, a little less rhythmic. The heat rises between the two of you, the air growing more frantic, and both of you are close, so close— you whimper his name, and his movements are getting shallower, a little more rapid. He leans down, pressing more of his body against yours, as if he’s suddenly desperate to feel you against him. One of his hands leaves your hip to brace himself against the desk, holding himself above you, and you can feel the feverish temperature radiating off his skin. His head lolls, a needy, strangled groan escaping his mouth, and that’s all it takes for the feeling to become unbearable again.

You come for the third time, and this time it’s the strongest it’s been— your noises reflect that. For a second you worry it sounds like you’re getting killed, but it feels so good you can’t even care. The noises are guttural, from deep in your chest, and as your hands tense you can feel Jing Yuan’s hand tense on your hip as well. 

“Ah, beloved,” he moans shamelessly into your ear, and then he’s gone too, delivering a thrust deep into you as you feel him spurt thick ropes of cum inside you. He doesn’t stop moving, still lazily grinding into you, both of you moaning, you whimpering as the pleasure plateaus and you become sensitive. Your hips jerk backwards, and he lets out a breathy, pleasure-coated laugh, following you and not letting up.

“Jing Yuan, too much, sensitive,” you gasp, and at this he finally slows, eventually coming to a stop still buried inside you. You’re panting, shaking slightly, and he hums in appreciation, straightening up with a groan and reaching forward to run a hand along the back of your shoulder. You both just stand there for a minute, breathing hard, before he sighs slightly in satisfaction and slowly pulls out, taking all his warmth with him. You make a disgruntled noise at the loss, though you know you can’t stay like this forever, and he gently rights you as well, tucking himself back into his pants. You turn to face him, sitting back on the desk while you recover, and watch as he leaves you to walk across the room, rummaging around for a second before returning with a glass of water.

“So, my dear assistant. Have I shown you how capable I can be, then?” he asks, that gleam in his eye returning, and you laugh, taking the glass from him and taking a big sip.

“Yeah. I dare say you have.”

[recareels]

so anyway i ran out of hands to carry my plums up with me to the kitchen so i stuffed them in the front pocket of my overalls and all i could think about was running around the farm on a hazy, late summer evening with boothill, picking plums from the hardygold trees and stashing them in the bib pockets of your grass-stained overalls. 

you aren’t even supposed to be harvesting plums in the first place—these are for the market, not for personal use, and if Daddy catches you there’ll be a stern talking to (no doubt some hefty lecture all about that no-good damned cowboy you keep hangin’ around with), followed by a punishment of some sort. the two of you weren’t sent out here to frolic and play hide-and-seek between the orchard trees. 

but that’s never stopped you before. 

the sun has only just begun its descent, bathing everything in thick gilded light. dust motes and spritz of fruit juice shimmer in the atmosphere, procured by the snapping of stems and the piercing of teeth, sinking into soft yellow flesh. overhead, the rippled clouds look saccharine, dyed punchy strawberry and coral by the waning sunbeams. 

despite having a pocket of your own brimming to the rim with ripe lil topaz gems, you won’t stop stealing plums from his, dainty fingers playfully dipping into his bib pocket to snatch yet another, escaping his grasping hand with all the sly grace of a cat, slipping from his touch then leaping away enticingly, just out of his reach.

but eventually, he catches you. just like he always does.

your fingertips are stained sour-sweet from the fruit, a squeal of giggles twining through the tree branches as boothill finally captures your wrist and brings it to his starved lips, a simple don’t tell yer Daddy breathed out hot and humid against your skin. that’s all you get; a single, four-word warning before his tongue curls around your knuckles, siphoning syrupy fingers into the heat of his mouth and sucking, hard.

[miaountainmama]

jealous

characters: jouno, fem!reader contains: pwp, shameless smut, collaring, oral (m!recieving), degradation and praise, use of good girl, he gets jealous and fucks you over his desk. i also don't feel like tagging but this one is relatively tame too. minors dni or i'll eat your bones

wc: 2672

a/n: i love writing jouno smut. man is so talkative

“Did you honestly think I wouldn’t notice?”

You shake your head at Jouno’s question— you knew you could never hide anything from him. You could never lie to him. Still, to be caught like this…

“I couldn’t help it,” you reply meekly, tugging weakly at the leather collar around your neck. The fabric is comfortable— Jouno picked out something nice and soft for you when he bought it. He switches like that, between someone who considers your every need and someone who pushes you just for the pleasure of it. Right now, he felt like the latter.

“…Couldn’t help it?” Jouno’s voice is low and smooth, and you swallow, knowing that no matter what you said, you would not be getting out of this situation easily. Your breath catches as he suddenly yanks on the chain connected to your collar, and you’re forced to look up at him from where you’re kneeling on the floor in front of him.

“Couldn’t help what? Couldn't help thinking about getting your cunt fucked by another man? Couldn’t help thinking about replacing me?” He chuckles bitterly, and you fiddle with your fingers in your lap. There’s nothing you can say, nothing you can do to make yourself look any better in this situation.

“I heard your heartbeat when you were looking at him. And the smell of your— ugh. Sickening. To think you’d get off thinking about Tecchou of all people.” He’s circling you now, heels clicking against the floor of his office, and you don’t dare to turn your head and follow his movements. You stare straight ahead, feeling the sweat bead on the back of your neck as you flush from embarrassment.

“I’m sorry,” you say, and, though he can tell you’re genuine, his lip curls in distaste as he stops in front of you. His fingers twitch around the chain leash.

“I’ll make you sorry. Get up,” he orders, and you follow without hesitation, standing and shifting your weight nervously from side to side. He points to a spot by his desk, and you get the idea, quietly shuffling towards it and standing with your back facing him.

“Bend over.”

Your face burns, but you comply, resting your elbows on the smooth surface of the desk and bending at the waist. You feel him step behind you, his gloved hand running along your arched back, and you can’t help but shudder at the touch. His hand lingers there for a moment before moving downwards, reaching around toward the front of your pants and unbuttoning them. Your breath hitches, but you let him do as he pleases, though your blush does darken as he pushes the fabric down your thighs, leaving you bare and exposed to him. You know he can sense how aroused his jealousy has gotten you, and shame bubbles up in your belly— you can hear the resentment in his voice as he sheds a glove and brushes his fingers between your legs, seeing for himself how wet you’ve become.

“My, so excited. So you enjoy this? You enjoy betraying me? Flitting around like a common whore?” You say nothing as you hear him messing with his belt and pants, and your heart rate spikes as you hear the leather drop to the ground. You know what’s coming, and your legs unintentionally spread a little— Jouno exhales in derision at this, mumbling an insult you can’t quite hear. 

A tremor runs through your body as you feel him press closer to you, his cock sliding in between your folds as he prepares to enter you, and your eyes flutter half shut at the sensation. 

“You don’t deserve an ounce of the pleasure I’m about to give you, you whore,” he snarls, and with that, he pushes into you, yanking your head back by the collar with one hand and grabbing you roughly by the hip with the other. You gasp out a choked moan, back arching further as he bottoms out inside you, and you barely have time to process before he pulls back and snaps his hips forward again in a rough thrust. It hits inside you just right, and you can’t hold back the groan that tumbles from your lips, feeling your entire body lurch forward from how forceful he’s being. 

The first couple of thrusts are slow and deep, but Jouno was never one for mercy. Within seconds he’s set a pace that has you seeing stars, and your hands clutch at the surface of the desk, trying to find any sort of support as he ruthlessly pounds into you. The air is filled with the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin along with your heavy breaths and stuttered moans. He’s leaning over you now, pulling your head back by the leash so he can mutter things into your ear as his hips move against yours.

“Could Tecchou ever make you feel this good? Hm?” he says lowly, voice antagonistic, and you only moan out in response, already too fucked out to think. He lets out another displeased exhale before he pulls the chain back and sinks his teeth into your neck, causing you to let out a startled yelp.

“Answer me.”

Luckily for you, you’re able to form together a garbled no, and he hums in approval, rewarding you with a kiss over the new mark on your neck and another rough snap of his hips. 

“Good girl. See, you can behave. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

He doesn’t expect an answer this time, which is good for you because you don’t know whether you could give one right now. You’re too busy gripping onto the desk for dear life, unable to focus on anything but the feeling of his cock pressing up just right against the spot inside you. He’s good— criminally good— even more so when he reaches around you and swipes a finger against your clit, not quite rubbing yet but applying enough pressure that it has you reeling.

“Are you going to be good from now on?” he says,  leaning further over you to murmur directly into your ear, and you nod your head, always eager to please. His hands are so warm, and the thought of him adding extra stimulation has you practically whining. It’s hard to think when he’s so close to touching you like that, still going at a steady pace with his hips.

“Mhm, I promise, Sai,” you breathe out, panting at this point, and he coos another good girl, causing your blush to darken as the praise goes right to your core. He rewards you by finally touching you, wetting his fingers on your slick before lightly pinching your clit. You let out a gasp, back arching at the sudden rush of sensation. Jouno chuckles from behind you, and you have half a mind to whip your head around and ask him what he thinks is so funny until he starts rubbing, and that clears any ounce of brattiness from your system. It feels so good you swear you’re about to cum on the spot— and he can tell. 

“So desperate for my touch? You’re soaking. You really are a whore.” His voice is full of amusement as he continues his efforts to pleasure both you and him, and he reaches out with the hand still holding the leash to fist at your hair and pull it back. Your legs begin to shake, but he shows no signs of slowing down.

“About to cum so soon? We can’t have that. Hold it in. You’re not allowed to cum until I tell you to,” he orders, and your eyes shoot open, tears shooting to them as you struggle to hold back your orgasm.

“But- Sai, I can’t, I can’t,” you babble, and you swear this man doubles his efforts instead of offering you mercy. Your moans become louder, 

harder to suppress, and he tightens his grip in your hair. The sounds of skin against skin get more aggressive.

“Jouno- Sai, please,” you continue, practically begging at this point, and you can feel his hands twitch from where they’re holding and pleasuring you. A soft spot of his, perhaps, a weakness for begging? It’s shameful, but you’re too desperate, too close to release to care as you target and exploit that soft spot for all it’s worth. 

“Sai, please, I need to cum, please, I can’t- I can’t hold it,” you’re whimpering by now, tears threatening to spill over your lash line, but he just hums in response, still ramming into you and circling your clit skillfully, and soon, the knot in your belly unravels. You’ve lost.

Your back arches to an almost painful level as you climax, and the moment Jouno realizes what’s happening he lets out a breathy laugh and begins to suck at your neck to overwhelm you even further. The tears really do fall now, and you sob out his name as he pleasures you through your high, never stopping even as your hips twitch and jerk. Your grip on the desk tightens to the point where you feel you’re about to splinter the wood. Eventually, you reach that point where everything becomes sensitive, and a shudder runs through your body. You know he feels it— still, he doesn’t stop, choosing to bite down on the crook of your neck instead, and your eyes squeeze shut as a strangled moan leaves your lips.

“Too much,” you whimper, feeling the hot tears running down your cheeks and dripping off of your chin, yet the man just hums again, choosing to ignore you, getting off to the sounds of your overstimulation— you can’t keep your mouth shut, moans and cries and sobs spilling into the air. You don’t know how long he keeps you on that threshold— it could have been seconds, could have been minutes, but as he whispers that you can take it you hate that you want to prove him right. You let him mark you up, you let him hold your head back by the hair, you let him fuck you so hard you cry— you let him do everything he wants to do to you until you hear a satisfied moan slip from his own lips, and he finally slows down. He hasn’t finished yet, but as he twitches inside you, both of you panting and gasping for breath, you know he’s getting there. He pushes all the way in and bends over you, turning your head so you can look directly at him.

“Mm. Such a shame. Directly disobeying my orders not to cum. What happened to being good?” he clicks his tongue, and your face burns with shame. You move to apologize, but the sound dies on your tongue as he shushes you, grabbing you by the shoulders and pulling out of you. You whine at the loss of contact, but he shushes you again, spinning you around to face him. You grab onto him for support, so fucked out you’re off balance.

“I’m not done with you yet. On your knees.”

He regards you with a light smile as you blink up at him, still sniffing and crying from the previous overstimulation, but you drop down to the floor at his command, knowing better than to go against him. You clutch at the fabric of his pants for a moment as you kneel in front of him, trying to regain any semblance of composure, and you’re surprised that he loosens the hold on the chain leash and runs his hands through your hair, letting you get those few precious seconds of rest. Perhaps he knows you need it before he inevitably ruins you a second time. Regardless, you lean into his touch, relishing in the feeling of his nails lightly scratching against your scalp.

As expected, he only gives you a few seconds, but it’s seconds that are appreciated. It mellows you out, and you open your mouth without complaint once Jouno shuffles forward and tilts your head up with a hand, grabbing himself with the other and tapping his cockhead against your lips. He’s surprisingly gentle as he inserts himself into your mouth, still cradling your head, though you know that won’t last. You place your hands on his body and wait for him to take control as he usually does.

His first couple of thrusts are shallow, slow. He moves deeper, and as his tip hits the back of your throat you gag and whine— he hushes you, rubbing circles on your jaw with his thumb. Your eyes water again. 

Jouno pays no mind, letting out sighs of pleasure as he begins to thrust faster, harder, moving the hand not holding the leash to run through your hair again. You look up at him with watery eyes as you allow him to use you, and soon he’s fucking your mouth just as hard as he was fucking you earlier. Though it’s difficult to keep yourself together, though you’re crying unintentionally and drooling and overall ruined, he pacifies you by murmuring words of praise down to you. It’s satisfying to see him morph from smug to this— you watch as his eyebrows slowly knit together, mouth dropping open to let out light grunts, and the more he finds pleasure in your body, the redder his cheeks get. 

“Ah, you feel- you’re being so good for me, fuck,” he pants, and you peer up at him contentedly as he slowly begins to fall apart. A weak noise slips from your open mouth as he tightens the leash, now using it to pull you up and down on his cock, and his head falls back at the added sensation. He’s holding back his sounds still, though, and you can’t have that. You quickly swirl your tongue around his tip when he pulls back again, and that seems to loosen his lips. He lets out the most delicious moan you’ve ever heard, breathy and coated in pleasure, and he speeds up. 

“Keep doing that,” he commands, though it lacks any sort of bite— it’s more of a whine than anything else. His thrusts are getting sloppy, erratic, and you can tell he’s getting close. You obey eagerly, willing to do anything that lets you hear his wonderful noises again, and as you let your tongue go to work he moans again, yanking you by the collar harder. His thrusts are getting shallower, faster, and you know there’s only a matter of seconds before it’s over. His voice pitches up— his hand tightens in your hair— and with a final thrust deep into your mouth he cums, spilling down your throat with a low groan. He seems done, but you? You continue to gently bob your head and swirl your tongue as you swallow, wanting to coax as much from him as possible, and your efforts are rewarded with a whimper. It’s the sweetest reward you could ever be given.

Hastily, he pulls out of your mouth, regaining his composure. He holds your head away from him for a moment before he retracts his hand, making sure to stroke your jaw with his thumb a few times before doing so. You look up at him happily from where you’re kneeling below him, hands still on his body, and he lets out a shaky exhale before resting his hands on yours and gently nudging them off of him.

“I trust you’ve learned your lesson?” he says, always one to try and remain in control at all times, and you nod, leaning your head against his leg. You hum in affirmation, and he sighs, reaching down to stroke your hair again. It puts a smile on your face, and it widens as his smooth voice praises you again.

“Good girl. Don’t do it again or I’ll have to punish you a second time.”

The idea of it sends your heart racing despite yourself. A second punishment didn’t sound too bad at all. 

“…Don’t get too excited. I won’t be as nice next time.”

[miaountainmama]

quiet

characters: tecchou, fembodied!reader contains: pwp, shameless smut, i don't feel like tagging but it's really tame. minors dni or i'll eat your bones

wc: 2183

a/n: i just really love this man and i needed to write him getting dominated. anyways hi it's been like 7 months since i last wrote

Normally, Tecchou was a quiet lover.

For the most part, the most you got from him was breathing changes, soft sighs, and occasional, quiet moans. It was such a shame to you— with his deep, smooth, and low, honey-sweet voice, he was the loveliest sound you would ever hear. You couldn’t get enough— the sound of him whining into your ear, panting as he slowly became more and more blissed out— it was divine. He was divine.

You wanted more. And tonight, you were determined to get what you wanted.

Tecchou makes a soft noise as you slam him against the wall, mouth slightly parted to let ragged breaths leave his lips as you press kiss after kiss along the smooth skin of his collarbone, then up the side of his neck. The sound activates something primal within you, something feral, and makes a heat bubble up and rush through your whole body. Intoxicated, you bite down lightly into his flesh, wanting to coax another noise from him— you’re only rewarded with a light whimper, his eyelids fluttering shut, and you hum as you realize you have to take more drastic measures to get a stronger reaction. Your hand, which had previously been gripping him roughly by the collar, moves upwards, running through his hair and nestling at the base of his beautiful dark locks.

You give him no warning as you pull, yanking his head back and biting hard on the newly exposed skin, and by God you nearly salivate as you’re granted a choked moan— a real moan this time. You chance a glance at his face as you suck on his neck, and your lips curl in approval as you take in the sight. You haven’t even taken his pants off yet and he looks totally enraptured, a light blush on his face as his open mouth takes shuddering breaths. His hands find their way to your hips, lightly pressing down on them, and you slip your leg between his thighs, unintentionally rubbing against the hardness there. Tecchou’s hips buck forward, breath hitching, and your eyes narrow as you realize just how sensitive he is right now. You could do whatever you please and he would just fall apart. The thought is too tempting.

One hand still in his hair, you walk him back towards the bed and nudge him until he sits down. You climb up and straddle him, grinding against him and taking his lips into a messy kiss, relishing in the feeling as he gasps into your mouth. You give Tecchou no time to think— the moment he puts his hands on your waist to hold you steady, you’re pushing him down onto his back against the pillows, tugging on his shirt until he gets the hint and breaks the kiss just to pull it off. You’re back on him in an instant, kissing his lips, then his jaw, his neck, all the way down to his chest. Tecchou is panting by now, breathing heavily, but as you press a kiss to a nipple, you feel his hands move down and push the hem of your shirt up— he wants to be on equal footing. Smiling against his skin, you sit up and help him take it off, feeling his warm hands brush against the skin of your stomach, and desire pools even further in your core. You throw your shirt somewhere to the side, not caring where it lands.

Your pants are quick to follow— Tecchou’s hands are needy, ever wanting, and the moment your shirt is off they’re messing with the button and sliding the fabric down your thighs. It’s cute how desperate he is at this point. You lift your hips from his to let the garment slip off, taking your panties with it, and his hands roam across your thighs and backside, touch hot as he pulls you closer. It’s a flurry of gentle touches and soft kisses as you finish undressing him as well, and soon both of you are in a similar state of nudity. Though you’ve both made love countless times, there’s still a pink flush on Tecchou’s cheeks as he becomes bare for you— you make sure to kiss all across his skin to put him at ease as you sit on his thighs.

At this point, Tecchou, voice breathy, murmurs your name, and you take the hint as your eyes lock with him and you see the longing, the need. Your gaze softens, and you take pity on the poor man and reach down, finally paying attention to the place he wants you most.

You spit into your hand, press a thumb to the tip of his cock, and swipe, spreading the liquid around and pumping languidly. Tecchou’s head falls back and he lets out a shaky whimper, and your lips curl into a small smile. 

“Feels good?” you purr, and he nods, blush darkening on his face. One of his hands reaches up to cover his mouth, and you click your tongue, pulling it away and lacing your fingers with his. 

“You know I like it when you use your words, Hiro,” you remind him, and he shifts in bed, struggling to speak without moaning.

“S-so good…” he manages, tripping over his own words, and you hum, pleased, rewarding him by pumping a little faster. His breath quickens in response, teeth gritting. You work him gently, coaxing him towards release, listening to each telltale sign of him getting closer and closer: his breath getting heavier, his body twitching, the soft noises that he can’t fully suppress. His gaze seems far away as you look into his half-lidded eyes, and when you reach out and gently turn his face towards yours, it’s over. His whole body jerks, fists clenching at the bedsheets below him, and he cums with a deep groan. You don’t stop as he cums, instead choosing to keep moving your hand up and down his shaft, too intoxicated off his low moans to halt your actions. You drink it all in as if you were starved— he’s whimpering slightly, though he does a good job of holding it in for the most part, and his hips are subconsciously jerking away from you as you jack him off. You continue anyways. You know he would tell you if he wanted to stop.

You take pity on him relatively quickly as he whines and pants, soon slowing your hand to a stop, and his eyes are unfocused as he looks up at you. However, though you may be done with your hand, you’re not done with him fully yet. 

You hesitate as you position yourself above him, hips raised as you rub his cockhead against the wetness between your legs to lubricate it.

“Is this alright, Hiro?” you ask, wanting to make sure he’s comfortable before all else, and he nods, propping himself up on the pillows so he can watch as you slowly sink onto him. His eyes are glued to the view as you slowly take him inside you, exhaling as the stretch burns a bit— he’s always been big. Still, it feels good to have him inside you, criminally good, and you can tell the feeling is mutual as Tecchou’s eyes almost roll back in his head as he watches himself disappear into you. You take him to the base and stop, noticing the shiver that runs through Tecchou’s body as you do so. It takes a second to adjust to the stretch, and you breathe deeply, feeling the pressure inside you from being penetrated like this. Once you feel ready, you rock your hips experimentally, and once you find a position you like, you put a little more force into it, starting to ride moderately. 

The feeling of him sliding in and out of you is heavenly, and as you angle your hips just right he hits just the right spot inside you, causing you to let out a shameless, lewd moan. You catch Tecchou’s eyes widen and blush darken at the sound, and his hands come to rest under your thighs to help support you (and feel you up) as you ride. You appreciate it— you need all the support you can get in this position. Now that you’re in the rhythm of things, you begin to ride a little harder, slamming your hips into his and gritting your teeth at the new friction. You catch Tecchou shuddering again. Good.

Your breath is labored from exertion and from feeling good as you move, and it hitches as you reach down with your dominant hand to tap and then circle your clit. The new stimulation is divine, and soon you’re whining and panting as well as you ride and pleasure yourself. You manage to get your now bliss-hazed eyes to focus on Tecchou just for a moment to see how he’s faring, and the sight makes you clench around him. He has his eyes squeezed shut, mouth open as he gasps for breath and whimpers, face painted a bright red, fingers latched tightly onto your body. You reach out, still keeping a steady pace, to stroke his face, and it’s hot to the touch. He looks ruined. Determined to keep him that way, your hand moves from his cheek down to one of the long strands of his hair, twirling the lock around your fingers before suddenly pulling it and simultaneously pressing an open mouthed kiss to his jaw. This plus the movement of your hips against his proves to almost be too much— you swear he almost sobs out your name as his eyes open from the sudden hair pulling, and they’re glazed and wet from unshed tears.

“Oh, Suehiro, darling,” you coo as you wipe them from his eyes. “Don’t cry. You’re being so good for me.”

You can feel his body under you jerk at the sudden praise, and he lets out a strangled moan— he’s always liked praise. At this point, seeing him so worked up has got you pretty close, and you move your fingers against your clit faster as you chase your high. You’re riding him hard, and as you near completion you can feel him pulsing inside you— he’s close too. You hurtle toward the edge at breakneck speed, and soon your legs start to shake as you feel the heat bubbling in your core. Your pace stutters, your body almost unable to take the increased pleasure, but then you feel Tecchou’s hands pulling you onto him, guiding you up and down, and you follow his pace, letting his strong grasp take you into ecstasy. He only has to let out one more moan, to slam you down one more time before you feel the coil in your stomach snap.

“Fuck- Hiro-” you curse lowly, and then it’s over for you— you cum hard, throwing your head back unconsciously, groaning deeply as waves of pleasure course through your body. Your muscles tense and spasm, and you grip onto Tecchou’s hair and chest like a vise as you climax. Vaguely, you register through the rush another groan, this time from him, and then warmth spilling into your body and dripping down.

You couldn’t hold it in, and he couldn’t either.

Your entire body heats up, and you try your best to keep moving through both of your climaxes— it’s difficult, but it feels so good. At this point, both of you are a mess, the air filled with the sound of moans and skin on skin, and the atmosphere is heavy from sweat and desire. Tecchou’s back arches into you, and you can feel his skin burning to the touch. 

As the two of you come down from your highs and become sensitive, you slow your riding, and the moans in the air turn to soft gasps and whimpers as you eventually reach a stopping point. Tecchou’s eyes open again from where they were squeezed shut from pleasure, and the dazed look of bliss on his face makes you feel warm inside. Finally unclenching your hand from his hair, you reach out to caress his face, and he leans into the touch, looking up at you with devoted eyes that make you blush. You lean down to lie on his chest with him still inside you.

Tecchou pulls you closer, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, and your bodies tangle together. Your skin is hot but you can’t bring yourself to separate from him, and instead you do the opposite— you nuzzle your head into his body, snuggling closer. You hear rather than see his lips part into a gentle smile.

“I love you,” you murmur, sliding your hands along his jaw and shoulders, and he runs his hands through your hair in response. He says nothing in return, but you can feel it radiating from him, the feeling practically bursting from his chest— he loves you. He loves you. He loves you. 

You press your head to his chest, his heartbeat softly drumming in your ears, and, for once, you feel at ease.

[miaountainmama]

silent

characters: tecchou, gn!reader contains: suicide mention but things turn out alright for both of you

wc: 1261

a/n: inspired by radiohead's exit music (for a film) and that one time during lockdown when i got really depressed and realized i understood why people kill themselves. was going through it

If there was one thing you did and did well, it was sing.

Tecchou was used to it by now— coming home at night to hear you blasting your favorites and singing along, whether it was to oldies like Frank Sinatra or some random ass TikTok sound you couldn’t get out of your head.

But the house had been worryingly silent as of recently, and Tecchou was starting to take notice.

He could sense the change in you, ever since you told him the meds weren’t quite working yet. You were singing less and less, and when you did sing along to something, it was something worryingly depressing, something with lyrics that scared the living shit out of him. He tried to ignore it, he really did. He told himself you were just venting your frustrations, that it was just words someone else had written down. Still, he could hear the melody replaying over and over again in his head, your haunting voice sending chills down his spine. If this is what your voice held in store for him, he didn’t want to hear it.

He didn’t want to hear you talk about killing yourself ever again, even in song.

There was a chill in the air tonight, and, while Tecchou normally welcomed the colder air, this time it bit to the bone. It was an unnatural kind of cold, the same kind of cold that reached into the night and froze anything, the same kind that ushered the living indiscriminately down the Styx. His footsteps quickened against the freezing concrete sidewalk— he would be glad to escape the bleak conditions. He turned the corner and welcomed the sight of the familiar house up the way, already eager to see you again.

He got about halfway up the driveway before he realized the lights weren’t on.

This wasn’t entirely uncommon. A lot of times you fell asleep early, or you just felt like chilling in the dark when you were alone. Today? It felt like a premonition. As excited as he was to get home, he now suddenly felt very, very hesitant to open the door.

He lingered for a little while longer on the doorstep, heart beating out of his chest for reasons he couldn’t quite discern. Perhaps he was overreacting. It was just the lights… this was normal, right?

Right.

He inserted the key into the lock and twisted, almost wincing as the creak of the door cut into the quiet air.

“…My love?” he called into the stillness, faltering as he stepped through the threshold and heard no response. You were always home at this hour, so why?

Tecchou moved further into the house, flipping the lights on and setting his hat down on the kitchen counter. He called out again, the festering dread in his stomach churning. No response. Maybe you were in the bedroom…?

As he approached the room, the first signs of life hit his ears— the sound of music! The dread began to fade, though he frowned in distaste as he realized what song was playing. It was the end of that accursed song you were always listening to about suicide. He sighed minutely, reaching out to enter the room so he could kiss you better and tell you to change the music.

The door swung inward, catching on an empty bottle of pills that spun and rolled away upon impact. The song, finally ended, began to replay, having been set on loop.

It took a second for Tecchou to realize exactly what that could mean. The moment it hit him, he immediately tore his widened eyes from the pill bottle, panic clawing through his veins, and strode in two strong steps towards the side of the bed, where your figure lay covered in blankets, tearing them aside and revealing where you lay curled in a ball, eyes closed.

Your eyes sprung open as the warmth was torn from you, cursing under your breath as you turned away from the wall to face Tecchou.

“What the hell—“ you began, ready to hiss at your boyfriend for interrupting your brooding, before you took in the expression on his face. 

For the first time ever since you had met him, Tecchou looked terrified.

Your lips parted slightly in surprise, and you blinked at him stupidly for a moment, wondering what on earth had him so worked up. Then, he was on you, hands cupping your face, turning your wrists up towards him, checking every inch of you despite your sputtered protests, and you connected the dots. The empty pill bottle you had knocked over earlier and were too lazy to pick up. The depressing music. Your lack of response and limp body.

God, your boyfriend had thought you tried to kill yourself.

“Tecchou,” you managed, suddenly feeling extraordinarily guilty, and the feeling only increased as he looked up at you with worried amber eyes. “I’m fine. I just ran out of meds today. I need to pick new ones up tomorrow.”

He stared at you for a moment, you staring back, before he let out a shaky breath, scooping you up into his arms. You didn’t fight it, clinging tightly to him back, and you muttered out apologies, trying to soothe his anxieties.

“I… thought you had…” Tecchou spoke, and you shook your head from where it was buried in the crook of his neck. You vaguely took in the fact that his hands were slightly shaking around you.

“‘m sorry, Tecchou… I was just… really going through it today,” you managed meekly, one hand going up to thread through his hair. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

He didn’t answer for a long while, just holding you, and you listened to his breath finally stabilize. You toyed with the ends of his locks as you waited for his hands to stop shaking, pressing a kiss to his jaw to reassure him further. Somewhere down the line the depressing song you had been listening to looped for the umpteenth time and you hastily turned it off, electing to sit with him in silence and not worry him further.

Eventually, he pulled back from you, an unusually serious glimmer in his eyes as he looked into yours. 

“Promise me,” he said suddenly, and you shifted a little as the words sunk in, looking away. Promises were hard to keep in times like these.

“Promise me you’ll keep trying,” he modified his words, and you slowly nodded through your hesitation. This… this was something you could do.

“Okay,” you breathed, hands moving back to sit in your lap, where you fidgeted with them quietly. “I promise.” You reached up then, holding your hand out to him, and extended your pinky towards him. He looked down at it quizzically before glancing back up at you, and the most minute of smiles graced your features.

“I pinky swear,” you said solemnly, and he stared for a second before smiling slightly back, interlocking his finger with yours.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he warned, and you pulled him close again, resting in his arms with a newfound sense of satisfaction. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head in response, and you smiled a real, genuine smile, the first in what felt like days.

“Of course,” you replied, and nestled closer to him. He wrapped an arm around your waist, and you laid your head on his chest, feeling his heartbeat by your ear. You would do it. You would overcome this.

If not for you, then for him.